The Cross of Constantine
by GambitandStormGroup
Summary: Gambit convinces Storm to join him on a heist in Italy. They run into unexpected danger, former friends, and enemies from the past. Features an OC and is Gambit Storm pairing. Guest starring Yukio. Alternate play out to the Gambit as Death BoA Arc.
1. Chapter 1

This fic originated from the Gambit and Storm group on yahoo.

http/groups. Authors:

Macbeth, Ace, Te, and Bastet

All chapters are labled to their respective authors.

Storyline is original to said authors. However characters belong to Marvel and are used for entertainment only.

Enjoy!

**THE CROSS OF CONSTANTINE**

Chapter One

Written by: Lady Macbeth

Ororo put down the copy of "New Orleans sketches" Remy had given her for Christmas and rubbed her eyes, trying to keep awake. Just now she realized she had already gone through half of the book already. It was funny the fact that both she and the Cajun had so similar literary tastes, at least when it came to American literature. Both were enthusiasts of southern gothic, her for stylistic and intellectual reasons, him for emotional motives, but still it was impossible for any of them to pick up a copy of a Faulkner or Tennessee Williams book without bringing an identical one for the other. Not that Remy was as much of a reader as she was…actually he wasn't really much of a reader…except for the Southern Gothic passion, he was pretty much incapable of finishing a book; he had a very irritating difficulty to just settle down to read…Actually he had a great difficulty to settle down period.

And in the past days it had gotten worst. It was usual during the holiday season anyway. First it was the cold: as soon as the temperature begun to fall he would start cursing everything north of the Hudson, then the kids left. Every year they celebrated Christmas in the 22nd so the kids could go home with their families to celebrate the actual date, the house got pretty much empty then, and there was just nothing to do. Usually the adults would take the time to do their own stuff.

Many had family or friends somewhere. Except a few people, her amongst them, who had no one to come back to. Remy usually spend a couple of days in New Orleans then came back, others like her, Rogue, or Kurt just stayed. This year was different though… Rogue wasn't home. Having decided to take some time to herself, she went back to Mississippi to get back in touch with who she was, her past. Logan went to Canada, and even Kurt had gone back to Germany for a few weeks. He asked if she wanted to come with him, but Ororo declined…because she knew Remy wasn't going anywhere this year…they decided to spend the holidays in the mansion, with professor. Still Remy wouldn't settle down. The Cajun was just restless.

She was halfway through the book and the clock announced midnight, and he wasn't home yet. Professor had retired a long time ago and she was all alone in the library. Just as she laid down the book by the oak lamp-table besides the leather armchair, Ororo felt steps approaching; felt rather than listened, since the steps were light like those of a thief, so light indeed that only another thief could identify them. She turned to the door, already knowing who would walk in:

"Still up, padnat?" He asked tossing his coat over a chair.

"Waiting for you…"

"Good…" He smiled sitting on the other armchair, placed right in front of hers.

"Where have you been?"

"Did you reach the end of the book already?"

"Remy, don't change subject."

"I'm not…did you got to end of the book? I think you'll like how it turns out…"

"It's a selection of separate texts, Remy…"

"I know, still check the end…"

Sighing, she opened the book on the last page…Remy could be such a child sometimes…How did she miss that envelope inside the book?

"What is this?"

"Open…

Inside there were two two-way tickets for Rome. She looked up at him and he had that grin on his face; that "I'm up to something" grin of his. Last time she had seen it they were still in New Orleans and she was still thirteen years old.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Means were going to Rome."

"I can see that…but…"

"Stormy…Did you ever miss that time we spend in Nawlins? Did you ever miss doing stuff just for the heck of it, without giving a shit what anyone thinks? Well I do…I'm sick and tired of having to apologize for everything, to be playing by the rules, by other people's rules, of…Don't you ever feel you need some time just to be a little irresponsible, just be free for a while?"

She knew what he was talking about…She felt like this ever since she was a child, and it had only gotten worse after she came to be a part of the X-men, all the leadership responsibilities, stepping in every time Scott failed to manage his personal and professional life and just withdraw from his own responsibilities, denying herself any personal life at all. All of that with no recognition…not that she wanted any, but sometimes it was just…frustrating.

"So, chère…don't you just want to give a big ol´ "fuck it" to everything? This is your opportunity."

"In Rome?"

"Yeah…did you ever heard of the "Cross of Constantine"?"

"The what?"

"For centuries it has been a myth…kinda like Britney Spears singing abilities, everybody talks about it but it doesn't really exists. Well, I just found out it might be real. They say the emperor Constantine had a golden cross perfectly symmetric with seven perfect black pearls and one oval sapphire the size of a big olive that had special powers, miraculous powers. People say that cross was the whole reason why the Byzantine Empire lasted throughout the entire middle age, while the Western Roman Empire collapsed. It stayed in Constantinople until the ottomans invaded it. They stole it from the imperial treasure, and legend has is that they tried to take the gems off and melt the gold of it, but no matter how much they tried, nothing could destroy the cross. Since then it has been in possession of many people. According to the legend it can bring the owner anything he or she wants; it helped the Arabs dominate the northern Africa and Iberian peninsula, then was stolen by the Portuguese, and thanks to it they succeeded in defeating the Arabs and starting the great navigations, it was lost until it fell into the hands of Napoleon, who started loosing battles after one of his servants sold the cross out to a British nobleman, this guy presented the king of England with it and bam, soon the British had an empire…Last time it was seen it was in possession of Rockefeller. But since his death no one knew where it went."

"And who has this miraculous object now?" She asked raising an ironic eyebrow.

"Peter Grant."

"You mean that zillionaire that just beat Bill gates in the list of richest men on earth?"

"Yep…And I heard from a good source he keeps the cross in a subterranean safe in his vineyard in Tuscany, more protected than the Mona Lisa in the Louvre."

Her cerulean eyes widened as she tried to gasp out the words:

"You are not suggesting that we…"

(Continues…)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter2

by Ace

_**Ace is now on the case (that was a terrible rhyme; disregard it…**_

His eyes sparkled with mischief:

-What? All I'm proposing as a relaxing trip to the Italian countryside…

-…But you just said…

-It was just a proposal, who knows what will happen when we get there.

-Oh well that is true.

-The world is our oyster ma chere.

**Air Italia flight 317**

-_We will soon be beginning our descent into Florence…we hope you have enjoyed your time with us on Air Italia, Benvenuto…and enjoy your stay._

Ororo listened slightly to the disembodied voice over the intercom as she gazed silently out the window, studying the terrain as is slowly became closer and closer—Remy on the other hand was fast asleep with his head affixed to her shoulder.

-Wake up Remy…we're almost ready to land.

She gently poked his opposite shoulder.

-Huh-uh

He snuggled closer. She smirked.

-You know if I was a stranger, this would be assault.

He woke with a start.

-Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and three Wise Men! What's goin' on here Stormy?

-It seems that you have gotten a bit "affectionate" in the genesis of our trip.

-Aw girl, I was just havin' a dream…a good one at that.

He wagged an eyebrow.

-Oh, well then…

-_Please put your tray tables in their upright and locked position, as we will be descending into Florence momentarily._

**Florence, Italy**

-Well, we're here now, what now.

-What to do…what to do?

They strolled silently taking in the scenery of the Italian countryside, both reveling in the lush greenery and perfect blue sky, and the soft warm wind against their cheeks. The jet lag had barely kicked in, but they were energized by the intense feeling of freedom they felt, not just freedom from the walls of the mansion, but freedom from their old lives—if only for a little while. The jet lag loomed over them eventually, so they decided to settle down in their small villa for and early nap and a change of clothes.

-You are easily the most beautiful woman I have ever met.

Remy told her from his perch on the chaise out on the patio. She was quite pretty, clad in a coral skirt that swirled 'round her calves, short leather espadrilles that highlighted her delicate ankles perfectly, and a white collared blouse tied neatly where her waist tipped inward, only a mere strip of coffee skin evident, her hair was swept upward haphazardly, wavy wisps framed her face and tickled her neck. He noticed all this and felt "comfortably uncomfortable".

-A daring outfit for the weather witch eh petite?

He took this time to drink her in quite unapologetically, lounging in his chocolate linen pants and comfortable yellow shirt.

-You could say this whole trip has me feeling a bit risqué, but I suppose we will find that out later—besides you're looking quite suave yourself.

She said this coyly, with an undeniable glimmer in her azure eyes…he knew it, he could feel it emanating from her like fever, she was excited, full of mischief, and simply ready to let go—and he was ready to go along for the ride. He stood, put on his sunglasses (sure Italy is real laid back about mutants, but the sun can be annoying) and asked.

-So how's a quick peek at the marketplace sound Stormy?

**The Marketplace**

It was far from the swirl of raucous interaction the open air markets in New York were, but there was a bustle. They were surrounded by vendors small and large boasting, fruits, smoked meats, and flavored gelato—all made from the bounty of the surrounding land, it was casual human spectacle at its finest.

-So how are we supposed to go about getting this Cross?

Storm asked as they were strolling about the busy marketplace

-I have a few ideas, and a digital blueprint, but we'll have to take a day and canvas the place on our own.

She quickly linked hands with him and gave a smug look when a rather buxom woman came sauntering by with a small basket and a smaller dress, making eyes at Remy.

-I must admit chere; I've never seen you this way.

-I know, I presume this holiday has already done me some good—maybe it's the air.

-Maybe it's y'company.

-Perhaps…

She stopped in front of a fruit vendor, and studied his selection, he was stock to the brim with everything from kumquats to caper berries. She greeted him perkily.

-…Bonjourno Signori

The stocky kind-eyed vendor was—as most tended to be; enthralled in her aquamarine eyes. So enthraled in fact, he didnt even see her lift a small apple from his cart just as she said "ciao"...she walked on as the quiet breeze played with the end of her skirt, apple in hand, and Remy following close behind, to the end of the dirt road where the market was stationed..

-I saw that.

-I know

She said non-chalantly between sensuous bites. It was at that moment when he felt it appropriate to test his boundaries, to see just how 'free' she felt.

-You liked it didn't ya?

She stopped cold, swallowed, and took a deep breath. He spoke again.

-Felt good,eh?

-I know.

-You miss it?

She turned, and pulled his sunglasses down to look directly in his ruby studded eyes and said with earnest.

-I miss _me._

-I miss you too 'Roro.

(Continues…)


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

by wahinetoa

He watched her from a discreet distance, following in the admiring wake she unconsciously created all around her, as she strolled with her attractive male companion about the busy market place. He witnessed the pilfering of an apple from a canopy fruit and vegetable stall, as did her observant and charming colleague. Amused by it. Intrigued. But even Mr.Lebeau didn't see the dark enchantress floating two euros towards the befuddled market seller in payment.

Ah. So it seemed that her long time ethics hadn't completely been set aside for an uninhibited foray with her partner in crime.

He watched them for a further few minutes, taking with a keen eye, all that took place, before fishing a Mobil phone out of his pocket and dialed out.

Someone picked up the other end.

"It's Roberto. She's here."

"---"

"Yes, Sir. They have dinner reservations at Lumans in a few hours. I believe Mr.LeBeau made the reservation."

""

"_The Assassin_ arrives in four hours. He is well aware that Miss Monroe and Mr LeBeau are already here - awaiting your final decision."

"--"

"Understood." Roberto nodded, though aware his boss could not see him. Wincing as a slightly veiled threat was leveled his way should either party become enlightened to his presence before the plan was set into motion.

He hung up the phone and placed it within his pocket, sliding into shadow as he did so and following his prey. His last words ringing on the air like a curl of terror.

"I assure you, Sir. They won't know what hit them."

Lumans Restaurant.

Exclusive pantry to the stars and rich alike, its iron-work balconies overlooking the city vistas, secluded patios and inner gardens rivaled none, for none could compare to the luxury that the Luman could extravagantly offer the discerning few. Fine marble, crystal and the finest of excellency everywhere the eye could see.

The two Xmen sat in an alcove, reserved for their private use only, and shared their time and companionship as if they'd never been apart.

Gambit leaned closer across the table, conspiring, and Ororo felt the pull to do so as well.

"Can ah tempt yo' Stormy," His breath warm against her cheek. "Wit' dessert?"

Remy tilted his head fetchingly at her, grinning as he saw the look in Ororos blue eyes. Surprised. She wanted to say yes. To both, she wasn't sure.

"I really shouldn't...," Ororo hedged. She glanced at the dessert cart longingly, glancing at Remy. She frowned playfully at the amusement she saw dancing in his red on black eyes.

"Is something amusing you, Gambit?"

"You, ma chere," he laughed softly. "Don't deny yourself, Stormy."

"I'm not denying myself," she insisted, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Non?" Remy dragged his gaze away, focusing on the waiter. Trying to keep a straight face, he addressed the young man. "I'd like de chocolat mousse, merci. Extra creme."

Her absolute favorite, he knew.

"And the young lady?" the waiter said, turning to Gambits rather silent companion.

"She don' seem ta want anythin'," Remy murmured, his eyes daring her to say differently.

Blue eyes flashed at his reply and without a second thought, she uttered succinctly, "Just coffee, please." daring him with long lashed defiance, "Strong. Black. And..."

"Sweet." Remy grinned up at the waiter, as he hurried off to fill the order. He turned back to her, smirking. "Just de way ah like it too."

She was simmering, he knew, even so, she couldn't be more appealing and attractive if she tired.

"Stormy, chere..." he professed, trying unsuccessfully to curb the delight her look created in him. She was about to letfire when the waiter returned with his - HER dessert that he placed in front of Remy and gave her her coffee. Coffee that wasn't chocolate, she noted sourly, glaring at the plate Remys desert awaited his attention. Only, that attention was on her - devouring her frustration and need with his own. With careful slowness, for her benefit, he picked up the gold fork and slid it, slowly, through the many layers of dark sinful treat, lifting it satisfyingly to his lips. He paused dramatically, eyes hooded, catching the light from the candelabra sparkling above them.

"Nevah could deny myself lifes sweetest pleasures, ma chere."

Lips parted, closing on the chocolate silken treat, his eyes never leaving hers for a moment. Heat rose to her cheeks at the look. He was not speaking completely of the desert, and it both thrilled and terrified her, as she made herself look away. Daring not to pick up her coffee, for fear of dropping it. His rumble of appreciation and amusement tightened her further. She was somewhat surprised and astonished when she belatedly discovered it wasn't Remys laughter at all.

"I'll second that."

Suddenly she was lifted, as if by magic or some enchanting spell, into the strong arms of another male. A male that was definitely not him.

Strong male lips descended upon her dark plum mouth. Familiar and warm, like her favorite spice. Her senses ran wild, and although indignant that she could be manhandled in such a manner - she found herself smiling into ther kiss. The expertise to which he wantonly kissed, roused a very intimate delight within her. Her arms wrapped around this stranger and kissed him back.

Remy rose to his feet, ready to do some serious damage for such an outrageous act... till Ororo giggled. Giggled. Had he ever, EVER heard her sound so girlishly happy?

Ororo pulled back from her enamored suitor, just enough to see his face but not completely escape his embrace - to which the handsome and well attired Don Juan was genuinely pleased. His sleek dark looks and those dimples that had been getting him out of trouble, and straight back into it, were obviously intent on getting her in the same.

"Saint," she huskily chided, eyes sparkling azure bright. "W-What are you doing here!"

"I thought that was obvious," he nuzzled her cheek, drawing her closer. "Perhaps I need to repeat the gesture just to be sure.."

Her laughter drew his own into the open, charmed by her.

"Reprobate," she swatted at his forearm. "Almost as bad as some other I know of.." her eyes cut to her companion, the smile she had, failing upon Gambit icy stare.

Remy watched her liaison, glaring with an intensity of a jilted and wronged lover. It both angered her and wrung her heart. In truth, he had no rights where she was concerned romantically. He had chosen Rogue, so many times in spite of the grief and drama. In spite of her own, stuttering confessions when she was but a child, and he; incapable of seeing her as anything other than, even after she was restored.

_You're not the only one who has a past, Gambit. Or the ability and desire to live and love.. passionately._

The other mans gaze shifted back to Ororo. Miss Munroes surprising metamorphosis resurrected feelings he believed dead and gone since they'd parted ways long ago in his city of Rome. He had become enamored with her exotic looks and free spirit, under the audacious influence of Yukio, while he was in Japan. Both reckless and young, himself; he had found Ororos cleverness and ingenuity, her seething anger and quiet dispair a counter for his own outcast within the circles he ran. Not so unalike in many ways. Sure, he was physically attracted to her. What heterosexual male wouldn't be?

He anticipated their time together at the clubs both women frequented, mainly to scam some idiot out of their cash. Usually his. Contrary to the woman now that was making up for such follies of her past - she still held the daring spark of rebellion. She had grown into a beautiful, intelligent woman. Simply sharing space with her had meaning. A woman who didn't play games was refreshing. Her honesty was a rarity. The more he grasped her personality, the more he wanted to be near her.

So they had become friends, companions and eventually lovers. Till her work with the Xmen, and his obligations to his fathers growing business had come between them. A regret he never got over.

Aware that the Cajun man was surprised she allowed such an intimacy, 'Saint' threw a knowing glare towards the mutant male. He plastered on a look of smugness just for the Cajun lothario.

_You think you know her, Cajun? You know nothing of the woman she can become, and will become.. if I get my way. _

"As I recall, my dear, you rather enjoyed my reprobate nature.."

That laugh again. Sweet and rousing at the same time, from a woman that had hidden such copious tempestuousness, now took incomparable gratification in displaying none at all. Except for the hint of something dark and dangerous when she laughed, full throated like she did now. For someone else. Remys blood boiled, nerves grating like pottery shards. He bit his lip, waiting.

"Remy, this is..."

".. her paramour." he greedily interrupted her, smiling that grin that wouldn't melt butter.

"Ex," she chided gently, allowing herself to be caught by fond memories, while delicately withdrawing herself from his grip. "Ex. Such a long time ago."

He made no rebuke to her statement, but settled his familiar intimate gaze on her. Reluctant to let her go, but allowed it for now. Caught Ororo's hand in his own instead.

"Too long for some of us."

Ororo quirked a dark brow in his direction. "Why do I get the feeling that you're up to something?"

He chuckled, moments away from claiming those beguiling lips again. "Are you always so suspicious?"

She looked incredulous, but amused. He relented with a small bow, before changing tacts. "Are you going to introduce your friend, beloved? I don't believe we've met."

He made a cursory glance in the Cajuns direction, but not long enough to acknowledge the silent warning in the red-on-black orbs staring daggers at him.

She watched the man with barely concealed suspicion. There wasn't anything or anyone that came into this city, that 'Saint' didn't know about. Then switching gears, she extended her hand towards her dinner companion.

"Saint, meet Remy LeBeau." Ororo turned towards her friend with a smile that could meltbutter, "And Remy, this is..."

"De Saint?" he offered bemusedly, with just a hint of sarcasm lacing and mangling the obvious endearment.

The dark haired gentleman gave Remy a look that said he was anything but.

Ororo drew her eyes down, biting her lip in tolerance. "That's a nickname, Gambit," she chided gently, about to add something more before she was again interrupted by her paramours soft husky voice.

"Buena Vista, Mr LeBeau," the dashing young man greeted the Cajun. "Welcome to my fair city."

Both mens gazes locked, sharing a rival glare that measured the other and knew immediately, the battle ahead would be immense.

"Ororo calls me Saint, for reasons I cannot divulge. But you may call me by my first name - Peter."

His eyes burned darkly and fierce.

"Peter Grant."

A mansion overlooking Rome at night. Every bit exclusive and extravagant as old-money could buy. From one of the ceiling to wall windows, a silhouette figure looks out with careless sight. His perusal is interrupted by a ice-cold voice behind him.

"Everything is set into motion, I presume."

Peter allowed a small smile to touch his lips. His eyes, tempt to his soul, remained vacant.

"Invitations arrived to my little art appreciation soiree tomorrow night at Ororos suite, a few hours ago. I'm assuming she has already informed Gambit of this fortuitous circumstance."

"And you're quite sure, they will accept? Miss Monroe does not seem the disloyal type, to obtain that which belongs to a past.." the shadow searched for the best description. ".. associate. Even if it happens to be at the behest of another."

Yes. He had thought of that. Perhaps this is why Peter had given Ororo such an invitation. Allow him to see her motives coming on this mission, knowing full well who the Cross belonged too.

"I shall deal with the invigorating monarch," Peter nodded, absently. "But assuredly, Mr.LeBeau will take the opportunity to get past my security systems in venture of his prize, regardless."

The dark silhouette came to stand by the Billionaire with an aire of outrageous right. No other would dare, but this figure was like no other.

"Do not underestimate my son, Mr Grant. He is determined to get the Cross, but not at the risk of loosing something far more precious."

The shadow paused dramatically. "Miss Monroe, is that very thing to him."

Peters jaw clenched hard, almost drawing blood. "If that were true, Sir, he wouldn't have brought her with him."

A terse silence drew out between them, before falling away with his shadowy companions next words.

"And the Cross?"

From around his neck, Peter unclipped the locket his mother had given him and pressed a small button inside it. A large screen came down over his desk, to which they both turned to view the camera viewing of an underground vault, heavily guarded by electronics from Shi'ar technology. Impenetrable. In the middle of the floor, surrounded by lasers and sensors stood a pedestal with the Cross of Constantine perched gloriously on it.

"Perfectly safe -- for an exquisite deception."

But to whose deception was it?

Perhaps he had been too cavalier to dismiss the legend of the Cross. For him, it had been nothing more than an inventive religion to add significance to the already invaluable jewel. Something rare and precious, that no man could hold but he. Peter Grant.

His eyes peeled back to the close up of the cross, engraving it with her image in his minds eye.

Beloved Ororo. His Storm. Before the Cajun.

To the Cross, he had owed this new found abundance of faith, that the elusive Ororo would once again be in his life, in his bed. She would be regaled and honored as his Queen, to live in a life befitting such a goddess. And on the other hand be rid of the one man that could have changed all that. Remy Eitenne Lebeau. The one who had unwittingly brought her to him, because of the same desire to behold the Cross and grant him everything he so desires - to loose the only one that matters.

How delicious an irony.

A flute of champagne found its way into his grasp, snapping him from his thoughts to the man who raised his own glass in a mocking salute.

"To our ultimate success in retrieving our hearts desire."

He rubbed softly at the locket, the key to opening the vault, with shadowed eyes. The only way Remy could possibly get it, was through Ororo. And they only way to do so would be to reacquaint herself with him intimately.

Such a betrayal to him would not go unpunished.

"To winning, at any cost," he added darkly, hoping that Ororos choice would be the one most fortunate for them all. "And to you, Mr.Essex for putting the entire plan into motion."

Because the alternative didn't bare thinking of.

(Continues…)


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

By Lady Macbeth

"Ok, what was that?" The Cajun asked, coming after Ororo as she entered her suite, without waiting for any invitation.

"That what?" She asked in the most natural way possible.

"THAT! That…Saint guy…he's Peter Grant?"

Just as he snapped, they heard a soft knocking on the door.

"First, keep your tone down, Remy." She reprimanded him, going to answer the door. Within a few seconds she closed it, after receiving what appeared to be to letters. He didn't really pay any attention. She just put them on a table.-Second, yes, he is Peter Grant.

"And you knew it?"

"Yes…" She stated simply, more concentrated on the task of taking off her clothes behind a richly decorated screen and slipping into a fluffy robe, readying herself for a bath.

"So?"

"So, what, Remy?"

"You knew it. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why? I needed to?"

"What kind of question is this, woman! Of course you did! We're planning on robbing the man!"

"So, you don't rob acquaintances?" She smirked, coming out from behind the screen

"Funny… Seriously, girl. Why?"

"Goddess, why what, Remy?" She turned to the bathroom. If the Cajun wouldn't leave she might as well take her bath with him standing there, the African former-goddess said to herself with annoyance, as she closed the door shut on his face, much to the Louisianan irritation.

"Why did you come? If I know you well, and hell I do, you don't "rob acquaintances" and for what I take the charming Mr. Grant is a little more than that. So…why did you come?"

He waited for a while, but she didn't answer. His irritation growing unbearable, he merely opened the door and walked up to the bathtub, where Ororo tried her best to ignore him. Forcing himself to disregard the fact that she was completely naked under the bubbles, he continued pushing:

"Why did you come? You wanted to see him?"

"What if I was?"

"HELL, WOMAN!" He snapped, walking back and forth in exasperation. "You used me to get to him and admit it to my face?"

"Used you? Now quit it Gambit. I understand your irritation, but don't you think you're overreacting? So what if I wanted to meet him?"

"So you did?"

"Maybe…As you said, I'm tired of being the ever-reliable leader of the x-men, the trustable teacher, "everybody's friend", everybody's rock…I miss the time when I could indulge myself, when I could have a relationship with a man without worrying how was that going to affect my performance in the team…Saint reminds me of that time…So what, maybe I wanted to meet him…is that so bad?"

"At my expense?"

"Your expense? Frankly, Gambit," She crossed her arms over the cold white marble of the tub and rested her head over them, turning away from him… "Stop acting like I've wronged you…It was a mistake not to tell you I admit it, but stop acting like I owe you something. I'm tired of having to be the trustworthy one. If anybody else slips there's an excuse, but never me…I'm the one that has to be responsible, to pick the leadership when Scott has his emotional meltdowns, to pick up your pieces when Rogue breaks your heart and vice-versa, to calm and sooth my friends when they're down, to deal with the students personal problems. So what I was a little selfish in my reasons to come along with you? I'm entitled to it once in a lifetime."

Gambit frowned. Yep, it was true. Every damn word of it. But there was more to it she didn't know. So much more.

"Besides, we don't know for sure if he has the Cross. For all we know, this cross might not even be real. So, could you just stop the drama?"

"What if it is real? You'll go through with this, or the whole point was getting a little "blast from the past"?"

"Why do you even want it?" She turned back to him. "I thought the whole point was to get away from responsibilities for a while, have fun, the cross is just an interesting twist to it. So what if we don't get it. Would that be so bad?"

Remy sat by the border of the tub and drew in a deep breath, suddenly drained of energy:

"Ok, chère…just next time, please, don't keep stuff from me."

For a long silence all that could be heard were the light movements of her fingers playing with the water. Both bothered by the precise feeling that the other was hiding something. He got up and exited the bathroom, leaving her alone. Just as he crossed her bedroom, the pair of envelopes lying right under the lilies placed on the glass table in the middle of the room caught his attention. He was so busy arguing he didn't even think of them. Picking one up he found his name written in calligraphy, in the same fashion as Ororo´s name on the other.

Charles Xavier couldn't find any rest that night. Usually he had no trouble sleeping but tonight for some reason he just couldn't sleep. Which was odd enough. The house was quieter as it had ever been, with everybody out. Even Storm had taken a few days off.

Charles was most pleased when she told him she had accepted Remy´s invitation to go off to Italy for a while, if someone deserved a little vacation it was her. She promised him they would be back in the first days of January, if they took that long, so he wouldn't be alone for long, just enough to rest and catch up with his readings.

But something bothered him.

He knew everybody was all right. Storm, Rogue and Kurt called him as soon as they got to their respective destinations, the students were back home with their families which was as safe as any kid could possibly be, the other adults were visiting family as well, and Logan….well Logan could take care of himself better than anyone. So why was he worried? Just for the sake of it, he decided to go down to cerebra.

(Continues…)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

By Ace

"Well what are you gonna do now?" he asked himself as he sat solemnly on their patio with a cold longneck bottle of beer. After their exchange of words in the bathroom, he felt completely devoid of energy. And now this, both of them invited to a late night cocktail at the home of this Grant character—he just didn't feel right about him, something was amiss, he thought. _It is not because he had her an' I didn't, or because I nearly saw her naked, or because she's all wanton and brass now, or even because every damn thing out of her mouth is true…it's this Grant man, he isn't right. _

_I need to calm the hell down and buck up if I plan to get anything done. _The phone rang then, startling him out of his reviere.

" Hullo" he mumbled.

"Hello, this is Gloria, at the front desk, there is a package here for a Miss Munroe, is she available?" he perky voice rang through the receiver.

"No she isn't, but if you could bring it up, I'm sure she would appreciate it."

"Thank you sir, it will be up in five minutes or so."

She was right, it was 4 and a half minutes, just enough time for Remy to worry himself sick over what it was. And feel even worse when it got there.

"A dress", he held it limply in one arm. It was a stunningly beautiful cocktail dress: a strapless icy blue bodice and a skirt made of glittery sewn strips of matching taffeta, it was a beautiful dress; and he knew he would be beautiful in it.

He commenced in knocking on her door after a good moment of thinking to himself: _damn, I'm going to lose her before I even had her—she's goin' to steal from him…who is this new Stormy? _He shook himself back into reality, seeing as it was nearly ten o'clock, and they had to get ready to go to the cocktail.

"'Roro, could you come out now, I have something for you."

A few moments passed, and she did, clad in a towel, he snowy hair swept up away from her neck. "Yes, what is it?"

"We got invited to some soiree your new buddy Grant is throwin'…he sent you this." He motioned weakly to the dress.

"It _is _beautiful." Her eyes glittered with delight.

"You want to go then?"

"Why wouldn't I, it would only be cordial, besides we do need to know where this cross is coming from." She reasoned as she slipped the dress over her head, deftly enough so as not to expose too much of herself—Remy felt an ache, though he didn't show it.

"Let me get ready then, his _estate _a'int far." And he did.

It was stuffy and slightly quiet, save for the timbre of various voices talking in polite and affable tones, not his kind of place, nor hers. But she blended in quite nicely talking and laughing with the host himself, who seemed to be quite intrigued. He on the other hand was left routinely chatting up waitresses and the younger brides of older husbands in his flattering blue silk shirt and black pants—he was seething inside. She was everywhere with him, on the dance floor, with his colleagues, at the bar. And that other fellow more often than not had his hands on places Remy thought they shouldn't have been. Not inappropriate places mind you…just generally on her. _Lord, I hope this is only part of her plan. _He thought this repeatedly as the guests began to leave, he tried to occupy his mind with business, surveying the professional level of security Grant had on the place, but she would always drift back into his thoughts.

"Hate to break this up, but we should be going; it was a great party though." He broke their conversation with his words.

"Stay a while won't you? I've missed the pleasure of such _spirited _company." Grant replied.

"I'm sure, but we had planned on soaking up some culture tomorrow, local art, history and the like." He could see her becoming irritated, but still not saying a word.

"I would ask to join you, but unfortunately I have some business to attend to." He then said goodbye to her with a kiss on the hand and excused himself to mingle with the remaining guests.

They headed back to their villa—he could tell she was livid.

They arrived back safely, she sat on the bed, removing her shoes and said. "That was an interesting party… but this is going to be a hard one to pull off, his security is state of the art."

"Yeah, well so is everything else in that place." He clipped staring sternly out the window. She didn't fail to catch his tone—but she tried to avoid it.

"You sound tired, come to bed then."

"I think the couch will be fine."

"Remy we are grown adults; I think we can stand sleeping in the same bed for a little while." She looked over her shoulder at him, exasperated.

"I'd rather not …after some man has had his paws all over you like some showpiece." He turned to face her, and it was on.

"Excuse me? What is your problem, you've been acting like this all night." She rose to face him in defiance.

"Acting like what?" he spat.

"Like I've done something to _you"_ she replied.

"And what would you call it…Keeping all kinds of secrets from me, runnin' amok with some man—who you're going to steal from, bein' all brash and reckless—just not yourself, and its drivin' me fuckin' nuts!" he nearly screamed, not at her, just because of his frustration.

She threw her shoes to the floor, walking purposefully toward him, to simply state. "You don't know shit about me Remy Lebeau."

She looked him dead in the eye when she said it, her crisp blue eyes piercing straight into his mind. He felt like she could see his thoughts. "Well what don't I know then?"

"You think I'm supposed to be grounded, reliable, boring all the time…you think I'm so—_vanilla, _I know you do. I am overlooked, over worked, and I am _tired_ of being treated like a _Goddess _before a woman, so fragile and oversimplified. And maybe—maybe you _did _know me, before…but you forgot _me_ damn it! Through all the shit we've been through Remy! You we're too busy being _Gambit _you fucking forgot about _me." _

That hit him hard, because she was right—again. And seeing her all angry, and wild and flushed rosy pink…he remembered, he remembered why he fell for _her, _why he loved _her. _He also knew that anything he did now would make her leave him, and he didn't know if he could get her back this time; so he did the only thing he could do, and quite literally backed her into a corner.

"I know Stormy, I know…and I've been an ass but…I thought you were gone—I thought you wanted to be gone…wanted to lose yourself in the X-vision…I didn't think you could be who you were—or do all the things you used too."

She looked up at him with that same intensity in her icy eyes and said in all seriousness.

"The fuck I can't"

(Continues…)


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

By Wahinetoa

Anger shot through her at his insinuation. Strong and independent didn't mean reckless. And being an Xman leader didn't mean she was less of a thief either. Time he learnt that. And now.

-Ororo? Ororo, may I speak with you?-

Storm nearly bit her tongue at the psychic intrusion, but held enough restraint to reply to her mentor and 'father' without further indignant anger directed at her sullen companion.

-Charles? Is something wrong?-

His voice crackled softly, soothing any frazzled nerves left in her. "Perhaps. I'm not quite sure. I thought it prudent to warn you of some suspicious mutant psychic spontaneous deactivations in Rome."

"Anything of immediate concern?"

There was a telling pause in which the anxious tension amped further, drawn out by Gambit and her precarious changing relationship, and Peter Grants imminent return into her life and maybe her heart, and now something more from her life as an Xman.

"Cerebra is being blocked, Ororo. I donot know how longer I can maintain contact." There's another brief pause before his voice clambers back. "Romes communications are down, and I cannot seem to lock on to you, or Gambit, or any other mutant signature in Rome, specifically since yesterday morning. I believe there maybe one of our rivals behind it." Another pause where Gambits inquiry broke her concentration.

"Stormy? Wha's goin' on?.."

Ororo held up her hand to still any further comment, mouthing the name 'Charles' so that he understood, returning quickly to her fading connection with Charles. Her body and mind went rigid, her whole self on alert.

"Magneto? Sinister?"

"Perhaps." Another tense long pause in which Ororo definitely got the impression the connection was broken, then hastily fought for. "Ororo?"

She breathed out a sigh of relief. "Yes. I'm here."

"You both need to be on high alert. I'm assembling the team but they cannot reach you for a few days. You'll be on your own. Found the cortex of the disruptance, which seems to be coming from the mansion of Peter Grant. And Ororo? There is something else - "

The connection snapped out, and she immediately knew they were on their own.

"Xmen business has interceded, for both us, it seems." she coolly informs him, mind racing elsewhere.

Without acknowledging Gambits worried concern, she paced to the suite phone and dialed out. He noted it was an inside number and waited quietly, watching.

"It's me." she spoke with familiar authority, but warmth threading through it. His curiosity peeked. "Remy's with me."

There's a small glint in her eyes, which he doesn't quite trust and rather than delight him, as it always had, apprehension sets his nerves on edge. "He doesn't know yet.." her azure gaze slides over to him a moment of regret marring it.

"But he'll know soon enough."

"Wha' de f--k is dis about, Stormy!" Remy railed angrily, pointing an accusing finger at the smug Yukio, standing in the middle of their hotel suite. His exotic redonblack eyes likewise stabbing at the goddess' stony silence. "Wha' she doing here?"

Ororo stiffened prepared for this. "She's here for me, Gambit. Nothing to do with our adventure."

The idea stopped him in his tracks. His face paled, looked sick. "Here.. because.. of.. you.."

It was not the words that wounded. It was the tone, full of all those things she had no use for, but expected nonetheless. Hostility and betrayal, and hurt.

Trivial if she suspected tonight would end the only way it could. "Yes."

"Bullsh-t" he glared at her, telling her all she needed to know. "Wha' yo' not tellin' me, Chere?"

Indignant ire stiffens her spine, rigid. "What I'm not telling you, Gambit!" her gaze reaches his, a brushfire of blue. "What are you not telling me!" her gaze slides from his, momentarily frightened of the answer. " I didn't ask you WHY you wanted the Cross, when it has seemed you were content enough in your life as both an Xman, and as a mutant. That's your business." Ororo stepped into his personal space, her gaze back on his, stronger than ever. "This, this is mine."

"Dis is abou' homme Grant..."

"More ways than you can imagine," Ororo shored up a bullish stance, hands resting on her hips. "She's not here for what's yours, Remy. She's here - for me. Now we have pressing matters at hand, and I don't have the time to hand-hold both of your immature grudges. She stays."

Remy wanted to argue further but was stopped by the glare she gave him. "I'm not asking for your permission."

Remy fumed. Yes, she understood that look. Knew what that insinuation meant to him, to her; for saying it. But there were other things at hand that needed urgent attention, and his hurt feelings weren't one of them. Stepped away, put distance between them. Xman leader to the fore.

"We've got a possible mutant attack coming from goddess knows where and by whom, but enough of one that Charles and Cerebra are fighting for control - and coming up short. If this is little venture of ours is to go through - successfully - we need to investigate it before they arrive..."

"Meaning..." Yukio muttered quietly, smiling at the Southerners grimace. "You've got less than 48hours."

Yukio retrieved a holographic device from her pocket and placed it on the surface of the table. Immediately a 3D map of Grants mansion came into view. Rooms, security systems and all.

"You'll be needing this then."

".. we already got dat a week ago!" Gambit gawfed, the hurt in his voice still evident, halting Ororos perusal of the map to watch him instead. Their eyes locked across the small distance, as though it was a chasm. Silence stretched an eternity, till Yukio spoke again.

"No. You didn't." Yukio counted, slipping her thumb print over the surface of the hologram. Immediately a red outline superimposed beneath the blue prints showing a vast array of Shi'ar technology and more importantly a secret basement cellar that neither Gambit or Storm knew about.

Gambits gaze refocused on the map, went wide, his jaw clamped down hard. "Son of a --"

"Grants Uncle made a lot of illegal godfathers unhappy, naughty boy." Yukio merely turned to the dark brooding charmer, smugly. "Not until Peter took over, did the impossible happen, and it became one of the most lucrative business' in financial history."

"The Cross." Gambit muttered, briefly distracted by the new maps.

"One of many acquisitions he didn't deserve." Yukio flinched as she caught a glimpse of Ororo, her manner changed. Became solemn.

"Jealousy at his extreme good fortune, got him some powerful enemies. Some of them, I worked for, and owed me a little sweetener."

Gambit scoffed, but said no more. Yukio took that opportunity to approach her friend while Remy studied the new format.

"How are you holding up?" her voice came as it should be, soft and fragile. She knew that words could hurt her - more than she was now.

"I'm fine, my friend," Storm began, her voice betraying the calmness. Yukio gave her a less confident look. Ororo glanced at Gambit. The man she was meant to love, and the man she had once loved all after the same cross. And her.

She was no ones acquisition.

Ororo smiled, put a brave face on it. "Better now you're here."

"Yeh? So why am I running in the opposite direction to you and the Cajun smartass?"

Ororo narrowed her babyblues. "Do we have to go through this again?"

"I know, I know. Disabling the systems that's got Rome in an uproar, letting the Xmen in. Walking the Jack-ass through with my brilliant and more apt technologic skills." Yukio grinned back, no where near modesty. "But more than that, you need me to remind you not to fall in love with him again. Correct?"

Her muteness spoke volumes. Yukio sighed, regretting so much that took place during their heady, carefree times with Grant. Despite all her reservations, Yukio truly believed that Grant did love her. She came closer to the bronze goddess, saying what needed to be said, even as it reaped her nothing but ire from her best friend.

She never got the chance.

"Interruptin' anytink important?" Remy voice pulled her from dark thoughts and her and Yukios hushed conversation.

"Not at all," she said more confidently than she felt. She searched his face for any sign that he could have overheard. Nothing showed he had, so she quickly continued on. "Did you get all you needed?"

Of course he did. Gambit had a photographic mind. But it was a segue to their fates.

He nodded, unable to speak so close to her - now so far.

"Good," Ororo turns to them both, one hell of a poker player expression for what they were about to do.

"Because not we're doing this within the next two days - wer'e doing this, Tonight."

How does a corporate Giant sleep? Not as soundly as some would imagine, apparently.

It was almost 1am, and Peters bedroom suite lights were still on up on the fourth floor. Master of all he surveyed was still surveying and Gambit scoffed annoyed. Bastd couldn't bear to let go of his money one second to close his eyes?

Grant had the Cross, for crimeys sake. What was he so worried about? With that, he could make it back in a second.

"Gambit?" Yukios annoyed voice came across loud and clear through the earpeice headphone used to keep all three in communication. "Gambit, are you listening?"

Remy bit his tongue trying to keep a civil tongue in his head. "Oui, wretch." he bit out before he could stop himself. "Yo wanna yell a bit louder, chere, so de security guards, dey hear yo'?"

With his considerable legendary skills - well, other legendary skills as a thief - stretched to maximum in dodging the high ranking security system, Yukios technological help in disabling some of the further Shi'ar security, allowed him to slip inside without yet detection. However, if the witch didn't stop yelling in his ear, the dogs prowling the outer perimeter would sure as hell give him away by joining in the wailing.

"Stop yur whining, and listen for a change. Next elevator to your left will take you down to the basement. Place the numbers I gave you EXACTLY after '108 minutes' appears on the screen, once you reach the floor. The elevator will switch gears, then drop you further down to the real vaulted basement. I'll try my damnedest to disable most of the security systems, but I'm running blind to what Grants got in that vault. Use the disablers you've got and hopefully it will be enough to let you through to the chamber inside where, supposedly, the Cross is being held. But from there - you're on your own."

_So what's new, eh homme?_

Thoughts turned to Stormy. She had rewritten their friendship the minute Yukio walked into the room. Actually that wasn't quite true, she had done that the moment she kissed that Italian con-artist back. Making him a fool, and a jealous one at that, and...

Gambit felt the elevator bump on braking, the doors opening to a deceptively empty basement. He ignored the bottles of vintage wine and crates and timber boxed frames of priceless artwork stacked all around the walls, that in another time and place, he would kill for. Not this time though.

The dark screen changed from black to blue, and in that fast minute, 108 minutes, flashed on the screen. Quickly, he typed in the numbers.

4 8 15 16 28 42

A cranking of gears, a mechanical whirr, before the elevator dropped again, a sound that made him very nervous for being trapped in this small space without having a quick escape route. He was headed into the abyss, for all he knew. There had only been one woman that he would do this for..

"Where is she?" he demanded suddenly, thoughts drawing to Ororo, incapable of escaping.

There was a pause, before Yukios clipped tone came back.

"You have to ask?"

Peter slipped into bed, his body aching from the tensions and traumas of the nights festivities. All in all, the night had been an absolute success. Never more so, than once again, having Ororo by his side, in his arms, where she belonged. That thought brought others. The charade to bring her to him, yet another lie to hold her. But what choice did he have? Essex was not a man, mutant or demon to be trifled with, and in a deal with the devil such as he had made - he had no intention of allowing any reason for Sinister to harm Ororo because of that Cajun half-breed.

He'd do anything to ensure her safety. Even if it meant he'd loose her again.

Executing dark thoughts, he allowed himself to surrender to sleep. Reaching over to the lamp beside his bed, he suddenly stopped, frozen in the act of switching the lamp off.

"Mi amour," he whispered softly, "A woman in my boudior, could be considered an invitation."

His gaze slid to the shadows of his room, easily picking out the svelte woman. She chuckled. Should have known he'd sense her. Didn't he always know when she was near him, or he near her? It had been that way once. Was it that way again?

"Lucky, I already have one." She placed the engraved invitation upon the corner of his bed. Watched as he rose from the bed, placing the silken robe around him and give her one of those dimpled smiles that could undo all her buttons, if she wasn't careful.

Had she ever been?

"How did you get past security? Not that I'm complaining." he added quickly.

"With the greatest of ease." she replied, "Not that I am bragging."

He laughed, delighted. "Modesty, Ororo?"

"Not modest, Peter. I'm just a little shy."

He came forward, those eyes mocking. Ravishing. "We both know, that's not true."

Their not so long ago passionate and memorable encounters rose up between them, like a volcano of uninhabited love-making and daring, sweeping capers that led straight back to the sensual delights of their reunions, dragging them both to a place they couldn't afford to go. He seemed to waver in his quandary, then school his expression to one of nonchalance.

"I do hope that no other invitation will find its way to the corner of my bed, tonight, Ororo." he stepped away, taking the invitation in his fingers with him as he moved around her. "A man can tolerate many things, but sharing you with another, will never be one of them."

He meant Gambit. Fierce. She had to reply in kind.

"To share, assumes that I can be owned," she turns, faces him. He keeps the eye contact, till he cannot hold it any longer. eyes drawn down in shame at his own words. "Which I will never be."

"I apologize, Ororo. Forgive me." Sinister looms in his minds eye, dark against the light which she represents. "However, some of us are not so lucky."

"Mon Dieu," Gambit cursed bitterly, standing before the one storey high and 8 meter wide, reinforced armor clad vault door. In front of it were about three dozen motion senses, a dozen more lazer sensors and twice as many pressure pads and robotics pins that littered the space between him and getting to it. "Hope yo' got de magic fingers to get moi pas' dis lot!"

Yukio huffed annoyed. "Gettin' your sorry a outta hotwater is all I seem to do, Cajun. Now, keep your trap shut, while Momma does her thing."

_Bite your tongue, bwoy. _Remy watched as a few lasers faulted enough to see his way through.

"Go now! I'll work the next grid once you're through this lot."

Didn't need to tell him twice. He flipped and somersaulted through the remaining lazers, missing pins and pressure senses enough to land safely on a narrow space without protection.

"Put a disrupter about seven inches to your immediate right. It should allow me access to the next grid."

For the last 10 minutes, this is how they worked. But both knew, they needed to hurry this along. In and Out within 20, was their mantra in the old days. For a blimmin' good reason too. The longer they stayed, the more they reduced the odds of making a clean getaway. So far, the disrupters acted as a conduit for her technological meddling, enough to see most of the security systems turn to her control and she could keep the guards on their coffee break without them ever knowing something was amiss.

"Hurry dis up, Yukio."

Impatient as ever. She huffed, her fingers tapping out a furious rhythm on the laptop keyboard in the van across the road from the Grant mansion. "Right, I'm in. Not sure how long I can keep in contact with you, transmission is breaking up, but once you're through this last grid, put another two disrupters either side of the vault door, then place the signal key over the door itself. If it's the same Shi'ar security key that Magneto had in Genosha that went missing a few years ago - then I can disable it from here. You'll have to work quickly Gambit, because in disabling the lock, sets off a detonation sequence I cannot stop. You'll have only 30 seconds, maybe a minute at most, to get the Cross, then hump it out of there to safety before it explodes."

His jaw clamped down tight. "Neveh tol' dis ta me before."

"Didn't I?"

If he got out of this, that woman was gonna see stars! "How big a explosion, witch?"

"Enough to take out one floor," her voice dropped dangerously low, maybe even troubled. "Perhaps two."

Before he could say anything the audible clicks of lazers being shut off alerted him to his immediate concern.

"Go now!"

"You want me to go?"

Peter shook his head, drew her down to sit with him on the leather sofa next to the roaring fire he stoked back into life, since her arrival.

"I never wanted that."

She took the seat offered, refused the crystal goblet of brandy - his favorite nighttime tipple - and watched him with curious eyes. There was something different about him tonight. But what?

"You've been expecting me." A statement, not a question. She saw instantaneously that he had, her mind racing towards the impossible. the unthinkable. Did he know what they had planned? Gambit. Gambit!

"I had hoped, you would return to me," He nodded sadly, yet confidently of a man who had driven his own destiny since the night they had parted. Lovers and rivals.. perhaps at this moment, enemies. "For more than just the Constantine.'

Her eyes closed tightly. He knew. Standing quickly, she gathered the goddess about her and reached for her powers - that never came. She looked at her hand, as if it were a serpent ready to strike. Looking back at him, she knew the source of the mutant deactivations and telepathy inhabitators were here. Horror struck her, till her heart hammered, the effects of loosing her powers drowning, pulling her towards unconsciousness.

"What have you done!"

"C'mon, C'mon." Remy cursed, Tokyo rose taking her sweet time unlocking the vault. "Yukio!"

No response. "Yukio!"

Still no response. He was ready to blow this joint, when suddenly the door hissed and cranked, the mechanics and engine unbolting from the inside. The earpeice was dead to him now, just as she figured. He didn't' need it anyway.

"Good for somethin' den," he mused gingerly about his often arch-rival and sparring thief. Hefting the door open with all his might, his eyes widened at the sight. He never imagined this...

Yukio lay sprawled, unconscious at Peters security guards feet. The ear piece and laptop smashed beyond recognition. Several feet from her, Peter held Ororos still form in his arms, cradling her, protective and tender, despite the circumstances.

"What have I done, my love?" His lips brushed her mocha dark cheek, referring to her earlier question. "No more than what you did, all those years ago. Simply returning the favor. Giving your friend the father he's always wanted. As owning the Constatine has returned my father to me. And us, the life we should have lived. Would have lived, if the price of wishing on this Cross, did not steal the very thing of most value you had to begin with."

She shook her head, not yet given up. Stubborn. He knew that and loved her more for it.

"g-a-m-b-i-t," voice weak, failing. He could hate her now, saying HiS name. Didn't she understand? What good could it do to fight the devil himself, once Lebeau knew what had set this into motion?

"After all, beloved," he murmured softly in rebuke, his tiger eyes full upon her, "Would he be so forgiving, if he knew that it was you, that stole the Constantine for me in the first place?"

(Continues…)


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

By Lady Macbeth

"Oh, Fuck." Was all Yukio could mutter, her head was aching so badly. In a second it shot into her mind; "Where's the head piece?" she tried to raise her hand to look for it, only to find both her hands were bound behind her back. Handcuffs. Opening her eyes she tried to adjust them to the darkness. Was she dizzy or were her surroundings moving?

Trying to sit up straight with both her hands and ankles bound with solid metal cuffs, she could only see she was locked inside a box of sorts, with a long horizontal narrow opening too high to reach even if her limbs were free. And the whole damn thing was moving. A truck.

"Oh, fuck indeed." She murmured to herself.

Now it was coming back to her…they had found her, the security guards, and Grant had Storm, and Gambit…Oh, shit, Gambit. What happened to Gambit? Now they were driving her somewhere, in the back of a truck all packed up and locked like cargo. She didn't know where they were going, but one thing was sure, Grant wanted Storm and just Storm…as for her and Gambit, well, three was definitely a crowd in this case. Somewhere the Cajun was probably in a similar if not worst situation.

"Ok…Thieves number one rule...be cool no matter what…. They'll have to stop this shit eventually and do something with me. So let's think while we have the time, Yukio."

She lay on her side, in a more comfortable position and twisted her wrists in a way she could feel the kind of handcuffs she had on. Grant probably knew she wasn't a mutant; no special cuffs, just the regular police kind.

If only they had bound her hands in front of her body, she could reach up for a hairpin and break free…well, what the hell, the situation required just a little more thought to be put into it, that was all. Easy things are boring anyway.

A trap. It was all a big trap. Grant had them wrapped around his finger all the godamn time. Gambit involuntarily took a step back, still holding his gaze up, sternly. The vault closed loudly behind his back locking him in that boxy metal room. A few steps ahead inside it's crystal cradle laying regally on its burgundy velvet bed was the cross. The famed Cross of Constantine, glory and ruin of uncountable generations of ambitious men. It was exactly how he imagined it, all golden, so clear and well polished one could mistake it for light in solid state instead of cold metal, with the blood-red ruby in the center and the seven pearls all black like death's cloak. Interestingly, now that it was in front of him, it was the thing that last interested the Cajun. Instead his eyes fixed what was behind it, a pair of eyes as dark as the cross's pearls, but deprived of the same lively brilliance.

"Well, it seems we just keep bumping into each other…" The Louisianan grimaced, utterly displeased.

Nathaniel Essex, better known as Mister Sinister, simply took a few steps until he was a mere meter away from the Cajun thief, and stood. Just…stood, quietly. Gambit clenched his jaw.

"You were in it with Grant…" He said, a statement rather than a question. Used to think fast under dangerous and seemingly inescapable conditions, Remy found himself frozen, his line of thinking turned into a complete mess, where only one thing was clear: all three of them, Yukio, Stormy and himself, were undeniably screwed. And it was his entire fault.

Sinister lips curled in somewhat of a bizarre grin.

"I guess one can say Mr. Grant and me have some…concomitant interests in this whole matter…."

"You're one deranged son of a bitch, you know that? So what's the deal now? He gets Stormy and you get me? Is that so?" Remy snorted.

"I suppose we have an awful lot to talk about, lad."

"No we don't. I had a deal with you once and my debt is more than paid for. I have nothing to do with you anymore."

"That's precisely where you are wrong…son."

It hurt her ankles like hell, but she had managed to kick off her shoes. The ronin trashed her head onto the truck's floor to get the hairpins a little loose, thanking god she didn't put socks on with those shoes and had let her hair grow out enough to actually wear hairpins. She then curled her body in a way her feet touched the back of her head, managing to pull a hairpin off with her toes. Who said the ability of putting your feet over your head doesn't have any non-recreative utility? Now she just had to sit up and pick up the hairpin. Breaking out of a pair of handcuffs with a hairpin without actually looking at it was basic thief old school 101. Once that was done, it was a matter of seconds to free her feet.

Getting up, ever so slowly as to not get attention, she half crawled over to the truck's locked doors. Her eyes, now accustomed to the darkness, cut here and there by beams of light flashing through the opening in the back of the truck, soon found that the doors were actually closed from the outside, leaving her no choice but to wait for somebody to open it. So she crouched and waited.

It was impossible to know exactly how long it took before the truck slowed down and eventually stopped. She felt the slight shaking of the vehicle, probably as the driver got down. Soon she could hear the sound of voices outside. Yukio remained crouched; her ears open to every sound even the slightest, her breath almost non-existent and her muscles still and stiff as blocks of rock. She was no longer Yukio, but a shadow, a quiet, undisturbable, undetectable shadow.

"Cosa facciamo con lei ?"A male voice asked outside.

"Grant ha ordinato di disfarsi di lei. E inconsciente, un sparo alla testa, l´affondamo nel lago con un fardello, pronto sta…" A second one answered

"Bene. Andiamo allora.."

The lock was undone. They assumed she was unconscious and handcuffed, so just one of the three men came in to drag her out. Why do men just keep underestimating women? They should know better. Before the man could even put his second foot into the truck, she had already pulled him in, snapped his arm and knocked in unconscious. In seconds…ever so silently. The other two were a just few steps ahead, but never noticed anything.

"Maurizio? Cosa fai? Adiamo, presto!" One of them asked, when the first man failed to get out.

He moved forward to see what was going on, just to have the full weight of the 6 feet tall muscular Maurizio thrown over him. The third one reached for his gun, never anticipating that Yukio had got a hold of Maurizio's gun, which he would probably regret if he had the time to think about before being hit by a single shot to the chest. Yukio got out of the truck just as the second man managed to get up from under Maurizio's weight and went for her with no plan, besides shooting her dead. Yukio didn't find any difficulty on kicking the .38 from his hand and the teeth out of his mouth. Before he could get up once again, yet another blow came, and everything went dark.

Finding the key still on the ignition, Yukio took off with the truck, trying to come up with the better plan she could think off not knowing what was really going on, where her two associates were or her odds of helping them out. She was now alone and walking in the dark, she mused trying to recognize her surroundings as she drove through the night in the middle of somewhere in the Italian countryside. Which frankly, only made things more interesting.

Finally coming back to her senses, Ororo looked around in desperation, ignoring the dizziness. She found herself in what looked all and all like the chamber of a XVI century countess. The bed was just about the real life version of the bed in "The princess and the pea", all covered with luscious black covers, just as the velvet upholstering of the love seat and armchair, the walls were covered in panels of creamy magnolia colored voile fabric topped with arches of black velvet and dark golden brocade, and the floor under her feet as she got up from the bed was of a rich chocolate mahogany just as the furniture. Even if luxurious the room was dry, and cold. There wasn't a sign of it ever being inhabited.

There were no books, nobody's personal objects, no storage for clothing or anything of the likes, no pictures or paintings, nothing to give a personality to whoever had used it, if anybody ever had.

Immediately as it was her habitude when in strange surroundings, Ororo looked for doors and windows. But there was none. The fabric panels covered every bit of the walls and whenever she pulled the fabric aside she was confronted with polished metal walls. The whole room was a box, like a little room made by a child into a shoebox to house a doll. Ororo immediately felt her heartbeats increasing, and her breath becoming short. A wave of cold washed over her and in seconds a panic attack was installed. She started feeling like she was falling from hundreds of feet into the vacuum, her insides feeling like a void and her thoughts getting more and more confused. She curled up in fetal position and closed her eyes fighting for air. When she finally mastered the energy to say something it came out almost like a childish sob:

"Let me out! Peter! Let me out!"

"You're finally awake. Did you get a good rest, cara mia?" Grant's voice reached her ears through the distortion of electric sound devices, probably installed on the walls.

"Get me out of here!"

"Why? Don't tell me you're not pleased with the accommodations?"

"You know I can't be in here! Let me out." She was crying now.

"Ok. I will. If you just ask me properly."

"Stop it! Get me out! GET ME THE FUCK OUT!"

"You'll have to do better than this, bella."

She became quiet. He didn't insist. Hiding her face on her bent knees she started to cry softly, her eyes firmly shut, trying to imagine herself somewhere else. It worked for about five minutes or so. Until she lost every bit of concentration and started gasping for air again. She was already hyperventilating and the irrational fear of going out of oxygen was becoming unbearable. For a second she laughed at herself, she wouldn't go out of oxygen, Peter probably had put ventilation somewhere, and she couldn't see it that was all. What if he hadn't? She ran her eyes around the room, it didn't look like it had any ventilation, she thought, desperately. She got up, wiping the tears from her eyes and started looking, like her life depended on it. Even upon tearing the fabrics all she could find was polished metal, there wasn't as much as a flaw on the walls. She sat up on an armchair trying to collect herself taking quick, little breaths. Closing her eyes again she started twisting the rags of the ripped fabrics between her fingers hopping it would distract her.

"Peter…." She called, in hopes that the slightest human contact, even if just hearing the voice of her captor would calm her down. He didn't answered. She wondered if he heard her. No. She knew he was hearing her, maybe watching her. "Peter." She persisted, "Saint…"

One hour. The longest time she had ever endured. By the end of it, Ororo was almost knocked unconscious once again, her head hurting from all the crying, her breath shallow, suffocating, her body limp on the floor, her mind incapable of one single, simple thought

"Please let me out…please," She murmured with the last bit of energy she had, sobbing at the humiliation.

She heard a hissing sound, followed by steps:

"Now that's much better."

She looked up to see him hovering over her. "You are crazy."

Grant leaned over her and cradled her in his arms.

"There, there…" he hushed her. Ororo wished she could have pushed him away. She couldn't.

"What did you do with them?"

"Yukio is being well taken care of…As for our favorite Cajun. Well, he's having a…family meeting as we speak. Now let's take care of you. You must be exhausted, my love. Let me get you out of here."

She wanted to protest. She didn't. Instead she just let herself be carried away, as he eyelids got heavier and heavier.

(Continues…)

Notes:

-What do we do with her?

-Grant said to get rid of her…She's unconscious…one shot in the head, sink her in the lake with a weight and there you have it.

-Fine. Let's go then.

-Maurizio! What are you doing? Come on, quick!

(Continues…)


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

By Ace

"Oh, it's party time now" Yukio whispered to herself as she pocketed cash and identification from her unfortunate captors. "Now where were we going?" She climbed into the truck's cab. There she found various maps and directions—in Italian. "Well this certainly won't help…but hell I'm sure the signs will lead us somewhere." And so she went into the Florentine night, not sure of where she'd end up or who she'd meet when she got there.

Remy still stood and faced Sinister, and the cross. "Take it boy…go ahead its right there for you." Sinister goaded.

"Gambit a'int stupid—I know if I take that thing, I a'int in for a world of good."

"Neither is the one you love," he laughed, "but then again I suppose it's the same for her either way—unless you can find your way out of here…son."

"Could you not call me that…I am no kin of yours Sinister." Gambit coiled in disgust at the thought.

"Who said you weren't boy…you know you have some bad blood in you…I can feel it." Gambit looked away…"She'd never have you anyhow…how could _you _live up to Peter…country boy…take the cross boy, what do you have to lose…besides you gain what? Everything."

"You expect me to listen to you?" Gambit tried to stand his ground.

"Why not, _she _took it for _him _when she left with the Jap girl—without you." He stood there calmly, arrogantly; sure that every seed of doubt he planted in the Cajun's mind would bring him closer to victory over the torn soul.

"Ciao," Yukio waved goodbye to the friendly men in the local bar, few of whom spoke English, but they did tell her how to get to the marked placed on her truck driver's maps—they warned her though, the said that the place she was headed was nowhere, it was a next to nothing place full of old warehouses; they struck a chord however when they talked about how when Peter Grant moved in to town he went on something of real estate spree, bought the warehouse space: "Lord knows what he'll do with them." One man said—but Yukio knew, and that's where she was headed.

"Oh yeah—this was a great idea…Let's follow 'Ro and her "want to be" gentleman caller to Italy, and thusly get captured by her ex flame who is now completely tossed—oh yeah, this stopped being fun about twenty minutes ago…oh…ohhhh" she grumbled to herself, that is until she found a barbwire fence with a small security booth at it's entrance. "Showtime—let's see what this "Saint" has in his closet." Yukio then proceeded to procure the clothes she had taken from one of the smaller truck drivers "In case she ever needed them—you know for role playing or something" she remembered thinking to herself.

"Ahem, Bonjourno Signor, I'm here to drop off some cargo for Signor Grant." She said this plainly, with a little bass in her voice, her eyes variably shadowed by the hat she was wearing.

"Oh Si—Si the late night delivery" the little fat man said enthusiastically…that is until he was met with a very sharp elbow into his very pudgy face—he fell down then, later he would find himself bound and gagged in his booth, with the same bonds used to bind Yukio, with a searing headache and without his weapon.

"You just can't trust the mail these days"

"If you're gonna kill me then do it." Remy sighed—defeated, Sinister had beaten him down mentally for some hours now, not to mention it was a small room, and there was nothing he could do in his power to stop him.

"Giving up so quickly boy…this isn't like you at all."

Remy sighed again—he knew why he gave up, he came here to get to "himself" again…with his Stormy; and she left him—for that _man _who had gotten him here—for all he thought _maybe she was in on it…I don't know. _He didn't have Rogue, he didn't want here…and the X-men—they never really accepted him anyway, and who could blame them…so the way he figured it…why not now?

"Because you're weak boy…Xavier and his sheep made you that way…I can make you better—_stronger._" Sinister chuffed but he was then surprised…

"I thought I'd make a special delivery…" Yukio said from the doorway—weapon drawn.

(Continues…)


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

By Bastet

If there would ever come a time in Remy's life he would appreciate Yukio, it had arrived. "T'ank y' petite."

"Don't thank me, Cajun. You and I both know I'm only helping you for Ororo." Her arm was surprisingly steady as she held it aimed for Sinister. She knew it wouldn't stop Essex for long but she'd enjoy the pain it caused him for the inconvenience he brought to her.

Sinsister eyed her heavily, red eyes glowing with smoldering irritation. "You are proving to be a thorn in my side more and more, Yukio."

"Let's scram, Gambit. Duty calls."

"What of the cross?"

"This isn't the real cross anyway. It was a bum setup, thanks to O Paleness over there."

"I assure you the cross is very real," Sinsister grinned, sharp teeth clenched.

"De cross may be, but what about DIS one?" Gambit asked, keeping the hand in his side hidden from the villain's view in his trench coat pocket. Ever since Essex had turned his attention to Yukio, Gambit kept a firm hand on 3 cards, fully charged and waiting for the need to be used.

The man in question's smile fell from his face and a scowl replaced it. "That one, no. Our friend Peter is in possession of the two treasures most valuable to you right now."

Gambit's eyes narrowed to Sinister's reference to Ororo. His feelings for Ororo were his business alone. And right now, this _prick_ was wasting his time.

"Come on Yuko, let's go." He walked past Sinister and was paused by the man's acidic words.

"You know that gem will never love you back. And in the end, all you'll have is family." A clear metaphor for the object of his affections.

Remy turned his head to the side not to look at Essex but so the man could hear him. "Y' ain't family, homme." With that, he tossed the cards behind him, grabbed Yukio's hand, and started running.

The explosion was small but enough to block the doorway, affording them precious moments to reach the waiting truck.

"Fuck!" Yukio kicked the tire before getting in. "I wanted him to eat my lead." She jammed the key in the ignition, the loud diesel engine roaring to life. "Now I can use you to read that map to get us back to Peter's evil lair."

"Pardon?" He jerked back in his seat from the lurch of the truck.

"Wake up, Gambit. We have to go save Storm. No doubt this jerk's found us out, he already knows she's not there for conjugal reasons."

He became agitated at the thought and picked up the map, spying the marked area, "Dis where de cross is? What about Ororo?"

"Both. You didn't think I'd come after you first did you?" she laughed. "She wasn't in his bedroom and security was surprisingly lax. I checked out the logs and he and his departed for the pier. I don't know what he has in mind. You don't know the mess you've gotten us into."

"Me? What de hell? All you give me is flack! De only t'ing I wanted was to spend a romantic vacation wit' my Stormy, get her back to de way t'ings used to be, y'know? I didn't count on dis ass clown showin' up and getting' us all killed. Mon dieu!"

Yukio's mouth fell open, "Did you just say… romantic?"

His eyes shifted from the map to the road, not daring to look at her as he recalled his words. "Non…"

"You did! You did!" She enjoyed gloating over him. The cab of the truck got quiet until she said matter of factly, "I'm gonna tell."

"I may owe y' fo' back dere but it sure as hell don't weigh heavy enough wit' me to keep me from beatin' ya with yo' own dismembered legs if'n ya do!" he growled. "Get on de highway here."

She steered the van, her joy at his torment waning as she felt how conflicted he was over the issue. Obviously there was some honor in the man if he kept his feeling hidden towards his best friend. She sighed. "I'm not entirely fond of you, Cajun. But take comfort in that I hold no affection whatsoever for Peter. You know, I've never understood what she saw in that _yarichin_, but considering how her attraction seemed to come after his acquisition of the cross, I'd say there's very little competition- especially when you introduce the fact that he's a mutant with the ability to produce pheromones."

"Why aren't you grovelin' at his feet?"

"You might speculate those aren't the pheromones I respond to…" she winked at him. "Or you could just blame it on the fact that he wanted her, not me. Ororo's strong willed but I'm sure a man of your reputation knows what utter torture pure desire is." She glanced at her mirrors before changing lanes. "And I'm sure you're dying to know why she calls him Saint."

"I'm assumin' it's a sexual t'ing. I don' wanna hear about it."

"Actually, no. So I will tell you anyway. It was five years ago that she and I ran into Peter Grant…"

------------

_Meanwhile…_

From the back of a limousine, Peter watched Ororo sleep, head rested on his lap. He stroked her soft, white hair with one hand while his other hand's thumb rubbed her bottom lip with fondness.

Her eye makeup had smeared and formed raccoon rings under her eyes. He actually enjoyed the whore look it gave the virtuous goddess. She had been foolish to think she could resist him. She had slipped through his fingers once and he would die before he allowed that to happen again. She was his prize, his treasure, and with the cross, he was going to seal that in the stones of time. Perhaps she would never love him, his power could never control the heart, but she would want him. That was enough for him.

------------

_Yarichin (Japanese word) male slut, player_

(Continues…)


	10. Chapter 10

Cross of Constantine

Chapter 10

Scribed by: wahinetoa

This chapter rated PG-13 for Strong Language.

Georgio Grant was never one to mince words, especially when it concerned his; of late, reclusive and belligerent son.

"How can you sacrifice all for this woman?"

Peter allowed his all-is-forgiven laugh to disclaim the condescending tone. "It is no sacrifice to die for love, father."

Ororo murmured softly, a silent objection no matter that she remained restrained and drugged, on the Limousine seat beside him. He watched her closely, as he spoke to his father, a frown deepening at her continued and disturbing unconsciousness. He had hoped that she had regained conscious by now.

His fathers authoritative tone pulled him from his thoughts. "It is, when it cannot be freely reciprocated, Peter."

"That can and WILL be changed - " he resolutely vowed in a voice so cold it could crack crystal.

"Then return home," Georgio challenged. "What cannot be accomplished here, with your own, that you willingly choose to do in a foreign land?"

Run. Escape. Mass murder, if it so required. Peters gaze rested once again on Ororo, the past between them stinging his mettle.

"It isn't that simple."

"Such is the folly of still owning that accursed Legend--"

Bitter rebuke. "You didn't have problems with it before."

Georgio let the barb slide. "I was then unaware of the price, Peter. What good is restoring my life, when your soul is forfeit..."

Furious bitterness. "She will restore that, and more. That's all I desire.."

Georgio let disdain seep through the line, a rebuke deserved for persisting in resurrecting a foolish dream - with a mutie girl, of all people. "The Constantine will never truly give your desire..."

His impatience turned belligerent. "So if what I truly desire, I will never have? Then I will settle for blood."

A chilling silence filled the air. Georgio choosing his words carefully - "Yours or hers, Peter?"

"That is something I hope to answer." his voice dropped, warmed in his fathers ear in such a way, that made Georgio wish for chilling silence. "It will come upon a lesson that none of us will soon forget. The Xmen, especially. Buonanotte, mio padre."

The line went dead, heralding a dread that should have been apparent, but was not. Georgio hung up the phone, impossibly calm, given the circumstances, and looked towards his silent companions with a sense of anticipation.

"Did you acquire what you needed?"

Charles nodded, gingerly. Still weakened by the tampering field around Italy and the stress of flying directly into the cortex of its impossible power.

"I believe so."

Assisted by the remaining telepaths, Emma and Rachel, he had managed to pinpoint Peter and Ororos current position, who now both laid out on the plush antique carpet within the castle bedroom, recovering. Scott and Kitty keeping vigil.

Wolverine wheeled a recovering Charles towards the grey haired aristocratic gentleman sitting up in bed, watching the proceedings with a keen eye.

"I am, however, still confused as to why you would offer your sons position without alerting him of our presence." Charles concluded, fighting off the reminisce of Peters dampening field.

"I believe he is already aware of your presence in Italy, if his current actions are anything to go by, Mr. Xavier," Georgio respectfully answered, waving off his nurse who fussed around him. "As for my loyalty to my son - that remains unflinching."

Xaviers confusion seemed to momentarily amuse the Italian gentleman. Charles could not align the image he got of Georgios son on the phone, and the one this man projected of.

"They are not the same."

"Not since the inoperable tumor reversed my death sentence. 3 years ago." Georgio noted Charles furrowed brow, took a guess at what it was. "I awoke from a coma two weeks ago. Discovered the price of such a gift, and what my son had done to purchase it."

"The Constantine." Images flooded Charles' reeling mind, of centuries of those that were granted their heartsdesire, and suffered another cruelty. His heartbeat accelerated, dread settled. A soul. The absence of one. "Who. is. Peter?"

"I think the better question may be, Charles -" his voice lowered sadly.

"Who is he not?"

A small mistake can affect the dynamics of all things that follow.

Such was the twist of events.

"She's flatlining!"

"Give me the paddles."

"No - you'll kill all of us!"

Everything stops. "What?"

"She's a mutie -- the Genosha collar executes her powers from engaging. Without it, it will begin a slow disintegration of the device. It MUST stay on."

"Dammit to hell. It'll kill her, if we don't take it off!" A horrific look towards the observation deck, where Peter watched the woman he loved, die. Painfully so. He shook his head negatively at the silent plea. The young physician turned away, disgusted. "Sht! Sht! Okay, we're going back in.."

The flatline of the monitor screeched suddenly, drowning out whatever the doctor said next. It increased in volume, shrieking, as the medical team scrambled to save the white-haired goddess. The futility of their endeavors more harried. Desperate.

Peter Grant stood silently, shockingly detached.

"She better not die--"

"Sir," the young assistant began to protest, double taking the seriousness of the matter. "the collar.."

"... will do what is necessary." the older man enunciated. "How long till our departure?"

"Within the hour, possibly less. Will Miss Monroe..."

Peter glanced up sharply. "She will be fine. Till then, I trust the preparations are in order for our unexpected guests?" At the young mans nod, he quickly continued. "Bon. Mr Essex will be here soon, and if my instincts are correct, the Xmen will be arriving shortly after." Peters voice dropped to icy menace. "See to it, that they are sufficiently welcomed."

He waved off the young whelp with a dismissive gesture of his hand. Gaze intent on his love. One hand gently caressed the remote explosive that would forever be apart of his new bride.

"For if I cannot have you, Ororo. Then I shall make certain, no one ever will."

Blackbird jet, speeding across Romes countryside.

Auto pilot engaged.

In the cockpit, Scott, Wolverine and Charles were seated up front at the controls. In the back, Kitty was tending Emma and Rachel. Logan twitched in the chair, eager than most to get his hands on Peter. Nerves clashed with guilt. He could only hope that Georgio was true to his word. Or that they could keep theirs, and not kill the son of a --

A shimmer in the closed atmosphere, heralded the disillusion of the dampening field. Immediately, Scott swayed dangerously, and made for the control panel, but was stilled by the professors hand on his arm. Scott looked down, perplexed, hopeful and at once, concerned.

"Charles?"

Xavier returned Scotts gaze as steadily as he could. "I cannot find Ororo."

Scott sighed, exhausted, as he leaned back in the seat, grateful at least for this moments rest.

"It will take time to recover.."

"I am never without some sense of all of my students," Charles patiently reiterated, "whether I am conscious or not. Even now, less than able, I am still aware of those closest to me." Charles swallows roughly, feeling dread. "I cannot find her, Scott."

Cyclops pales further.

"She's still alive, isn't she?"

"I believe I would know if she did not." Charles confession seems hollow for hope. "However, Peter is the greater concern. In possession of The Constantine, had manifested his powers to an extent, that he is able to mask Ororos signature from Rachel, Emma and myself. That kind of power has consequences. The jewel is affording him more power, more madness, each time he uses it to amplify his already considerable talents. He's a addict - he'll do anything to keep the jewel."

Scotts blood ran cold. "He wouldn't hurt Ororo - he couldn't.. he loves.."

"If he considers the Constantine to be his only salvation, as I believe he does, then nothing or no one shall stand between him and it, the life he wanted and still craves desperately for - he will stop at nothing to retain control. I couldn't stop him in my condition."

Cyclops drew a staggering breath, "If they are not where we think them to be --" a long pause. "Storms life is still very much in the balance. "

All because of Peter; the fraudulent King.

Momentary defiance.

"We will get to the warehouses in time, Charles. She, Remy and Yukio... We won't loose them."

Xavier sighed heavily, feeling defeat. His eyes fading in on the sporadic image throbbing darkly behind his eyes... How could he tell him, that they were already too late?

Ororo hunched over in pain - the slow agonizing return of her senses were about as bloodied as the stripping of them by the Genosha collar, as whatever it was that Peter had seen fit to fill her veins with.

Her body felt different - alien. Her spatial senses clarified further, the taste of salt in the air, and waves, and... suddenly she was being picked up, her mouth forcefully opened by another mans. In her minds eye, she imagined Remy. But the kiss turned violent, a sadistic trace within it.

Fantasy executed for blind panicked reality. What little strength she had left, she pushed futility at his chest, trying desperately to escape.

Oh, goddess. Saint!

Her eyes snap open, adding visuals to what she was feeling.

His dark eyes stared down at her, part love or some mutated version of it, and part ownership. Her stomach turned, her blood souring further when she called for the Goddess, and got nothing but cold stone silence.

"Now, now, Anima Mio," his husky voice cajoled. "You wouldn't want to be rude and interrupt the service, would you?"

Ororo shook her head, trying to clear it of the fog. Service?

"W-what have you done--"

Someone dressed in black was beside her, speaking, but the words were jumbled somehow. Rendering everything to a blur. She shook her head again, which made Peter more amused.

He spoke to the figure, almost apologetically. "Father, my men have your money for a job well done. I'm sure I will have your silence in return?"

The affirmative was given, though Storm was struggling with her own voice - if she could find it.

Two sharp gunshots rang out in the night air The silence Saint had so required, finally assured.

Ororo wavered, drained even with such little effort. The cold metal around her neck, told her all she needed to know.

But the wet, sticky feeling against her chest, momentarily distracted her from trying to escape. Him and the Genosha collar. Her left hand raised to press itself against her chest and instead, she gasped, horrified.

"Now then, my love," Peter pulled Storm closer, allowing her to feel his arousal and the powerful need behind it. The golden band on her left hand, sparkling like a vipers jewel.

"Is that anyway to greet your beloved husband?"

"BASTARD!" Remy came crashing through the glass doors, his long amber duster swirling around him as he strode by. Behind him, Yukio kicked, catapulted and punched her way through the first wave of Saints welcoming party. It was however, the sight that greeted the furious Cajun, that froze him to the floor. His eyes widened, jaw dropping.

"Mah, chere... non. Non -"

For one so calm in the midst of his plans going down the drain, Saints laugh was bitter rebuke.

"You're too late, LeBeau."

A wash of white taffeta and silk blew merrily around her like a cloud, and her brow furrowed, as suddenly he twirled her out, still caught in his embrace but enough that Remy could see how bewitching the witch was as his consummated bride.

"You've known all along what I would do to keep this Cross - the price it ultimately takes to possess such a jewel, no? Ororo was ripped from me, such is the price I had to pay for that one wish. To the Cross."

He scowls darkly as with the other hand, Saint rips the intricate bodice and the soft hospital gauze material beneath, from her chest.

"One or the other, but never both, you impertinent dog. Now you have lost them both. Such is the price you must pay ME."

Ororo looked to Remy, and Yukio, who stood behind him, eyes wide with horror. Gasping back sobs, Remy shaking uncontrollably, muttering curses - half choked with his own tears. She was safe, though, wasn't she? He was here. With her. Where was the cross? Why were they not running away, or fighting, or something? Why was this so easy?

Saint reeled her back into his arms.

"Knowing this, for whom did you come, then?" he fingered the remote behind his back, lips curling into a snarl. behind Remy and the Jap girl, Essex and an army of gunmen descended quickly upon them all. "You only have one chance and make it quick." a brief pause as the Genosh collar clicked open, and fell to the floor in a sickening (thud(. Suddenly without warning he thrust her out to him, Remy catching her as she staggered and fell into his arms.

Peters voice taunting and inhumane. "She really doesn't have that much longer.. So Cajun?--"

Confused, ignoring Saint, she felt her powers returning to her - stabbing, renting, ripping and tearing. Remy felt himself being drained by the bloody cross, being sucked dry, as Ororo now was. Saint in the meanwhile glowed brilliantly, muscles bulging, his skeleton growing and becoming a giant. His final taunt booming out above Ororo's cries, as she looked down, and screamed.

For buried in her chest, merged with sinew blood and bone, skin scabbing around the edges, was imbedded - The bloody Constantine.

"--Make your wish."

Anima Mio - My love

Buenote - Goodnight

Mio Padre - My father.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 By Lady Macbeth

For a moment there was silence. Nothing but the sound of drops hitting the floor. Thick, dark drops of blood. Saint had commanded the remaining of his men to leave them alone and now stood triumphantly over Remy. Kneeling on the floor with the woman he loved dearly in his arms, nearing a certain death, Gambit's brain was taken over by desperation, anger and the overwhelming feeling of not knowing what do to. He raised his gaze once again to the man in front of him, no longer a simple man but somewhat of a twisted demigod, fed by the energy of the cross into something inhumanely powerful…

Yukio sucked in a sharp breath:

"Son of a bitch…I'm gonna…"

"What? Kill me? Feel free to do it. My death won´t keep Ororo from hemorrhaging and dying anyways, there's nothing you can do about it, except remove the cross on time and close the wound."

"What the fuck do you want, anyway?" Remy asked in complete daze as his fingers gently touched the edge of the metal, where the cross met with raw flesh, the idea of her pain driving him insane.

"Me? Oh, you don't really get it do you? I have everything," His voice was higher and higher, hitting a horrific pitch, "There's nothing I could possibly want that the cross couldn't give me…everything except the one thing I wanted more than anything else. You know the problem about the Constantine is that it can't really give you everything; it doesn't have any control over people's hearts. Do you know how does it feel to have everything, to not have anything else to wish for except the one thing that will never be yours! The Constantine is the source of all my misery…"

"So, you want to destroy it alongside with Stormy… Because the Constantine can't give her to you, you just decided to destroy them both?"

"Not really…You still can do something about it. Or can't you?" He grinned, with the vengeful satisfaction of watching first hand the complete helplessness of his rival. The man she had preferred over him, but now unable to save her life, shivering like a newborn little animal.

Ororo didn't feel any pain now. Her blood came out of her body, alongside with every bit of her energy that flowed into the icy-cold metal of the cross, and she felt like floating. Dimly aware of her situation she forced her brain to wake up. Tossing her head a little, as much as her state allowed her, she suddenly felt her neck was free. The cross was an effective power drainer by itself, and the collar was probably not necessary to keep her tamed. **Probably**. But if anything, Ororo was known for her tenacity…She concentrated, trying to ignore the vampire-jewel embedded in her body, and sent her conscience up, higher and higher, away from her body, liberated from that mess of blood, flesh and rippling pain.

"Goddess…help me".

The blinding white light showered her warmly. Through the ceiling she could feel the sky opening, she was aware now, awake, energetic on again…

--------

"Did you feel that, Charles?" Emma asked in a low voice as a grin danced on her full lips.

"Yes." Xavier opened a wide smile like he hadn't done in ages.

"That's more like the Storm I know." Rachel let out momentarily relieved.

"Care to let us in?" Logan asked, somehow already knowing what had just went on.

"We just detected weather activity. A storm is forming a few miles just ahead of us. It's her right?" Scott asked Xavier.

"Yes. It seems she's recovering her powers…."

Just as he uttered these words, they saw a column of air rotating madly in the shape of a concentrated tornado far away in the horizon; it went all the way up vanishing in the morbid gray sky as high as the eye could see, making centenary trees fly up like they were nothing but little toothpicks, rocks, dirt and entire patches of ground were mingling into the air and rotating along with it forming a strange sort of moving wall as the terrifying sound of it reached their ears like the roar of a giant Fenrir ready to swallow up the entire solar globe in one bite.

"…And going omega." Emma stated, wide eyed.

"I'll say so… we got to get out this tornado's way." Logan said coldly.

Just as he said that, half of a thick tree, broken in two by the inclement winds, smashed the front of the plane.

"DAMNIT!" Scott hissed, trying to maintain control over the enormous machine.

Rachel focused her energy on stabilizing the plane, as they tried to duck the storm. But the damage caused by the collision had taken its tool on the Blackbird; once the tree hit the front it bounced, hitting the wing, making a great damage.

"We have to put this plane on the ground!" Logan told Scott, as it wasn't obvious enough.

"Rachel!" Cyclops called frantically.

"I got it!"

-----

The walls were shaking around them. Remy looked down to Storm just to see her eyes fluttering slightly to reveal a glowing whiteness under her eyelids.

"Stormy?" He called, a small sense of relief washing over him, just to see she was alive and strong enough to still summon her powers. But just as he realized that, the loud noise of the ceiling vibrating and snapping above their heads reached his ears. Before any of the tree had the time to look up and the entire upper part of the building was ripped off like a sheet of paper. Peter was knocked off his feet, his body falling limp about twenty feet away, vanishing somewhere in the mess of branches, dirt and leaves that invaded the place brought by the wind.

Remy held Ororo tightly and pulled Yukio down to him, trying to protect both women from debris with his own body and keep them from being thrown around by the wind like Peter. The Japanese thief tried to steady herself in place as to make Remy´s job easier, all the while protecting her face and watering eyes.

"ORORO, YOU´VE GOT TO STOP IT!" She yelled, barely hearing herself over the noise.

"Stormy, you're gonna kill us all. Stop it, please…" Remy murmured against her forehead.

-----

Once the plane was on the ground, the x-men got out and checked their surroundings. They had landed in a safe place, and, concentrated as it was over a single spot, the storm was a few miles ahead of them, but still visible like a titan rising just before their eyes.

"Now what?" Kitty asked in frustration to no one in particular.

"We walk." Logan replied with innerving calm.

"What?"

"He's right. He can't take the Black bird off the ground." Scott told her.

"Look!"

They all turned to where Rachel was pointing. The column was, little by little, loosing velocity and power.

"Is she OK?" The leader of the X-men asked Xavier.

"I can still feel her energy. It seems she stopped voluntarily."

"And that's good, right?" Logan raised an eyebrow.

"Most likely. If she stopped the storm out of her own will it's likely she's not in danger anymore. But I can't be sure. You go ahead and find her. Emma and I will stay here and try to contact her. If we find anything out of ordinary we'll contact you."

"Ok. C'mon, we have to hurry." Cyclops told his teammates.

--------

The buzzing of the wind was vanishing slowly. It had all taken a few moments but was enough to destroy the entire place. He couldn't see Peter anywhere, and the Yukio was passed out with a wound to her head. He checked her pulse:

"Yukio?"

"I'm all right…" she told him, not quite conscious yet, "We got to save Ororo. We got to take her away…the cross."

"Don't worry, chère…I got it. I got her." He looked around, seeing nothing but demolished walls and debris everywhere. Ororo was still bleeding profusely. For the first time since he had been a little kid, the Cajun frankly didn't know what to do. Removing the cross would cause even bigger loss of blood. Not removing it, she would die all the same; only it would take more time. He needed a doctor. If the truck hadn't been destroyed by the storm they stood a chance. He touched Yukio´s face and tried to get her to wake up:

"C'mon girl…"

"Go…take her. I'll be all right."

"I don't think you will…"

"Just go, you idiot."

He got up, casting one last glance to the ninja. He took Ororo in his arms, feeling a sharp sting of pain; probably something had hit him on the side, just below his ribs in the course of the storm. Something had to be broken, it hurt like a bitch. But he dismissed it, it wasn't important now.

"I'll come back for you, as soon as I find the truck, and we'll go all three of us to a hospital, Ok?"

Yukio nodded, still dizzy. He walked away as quickly as his hurting ribs allowed him to. He didn't take more than two steps, though; his feet froze into the ground as a familiar voice came from behind one of the half-demolished walls:

"How very unpleasant, it seems I have missed the party."

He turned around, as Essex walked into his field of vision, a small smile in his lips.

"I ain´t got the time to deal with you now." The Cajun told him.

"I see you have some pressing matters in your hands now…but I must warn you, she's not going to make it into the hospital on time. Especially considering you do not have a car…I couldn't help but notice the vehicle that brought you here is smashed beyond recognition."

"Fuck" Remy cursed to himself, not letting any sign of desperation betray his façade, not in front of Sinister.

"You're lying…"

"You are free to see it for yourself. I do not plan on doing anything to stop you."

Remy went quiet.

"I suppose you're planning on carrying her all the way up to the next road and hitchhike?" Sinister chuckled.

"Fine," He took in a deep breath, "What's the catch?

"None. Just business…as usual." He casually sat on what was left of a wall.

"What do you mean?"

"You have a doctor right in front of you."

"What's his fee?"

"You know it…"

"I'm not selling my soul twice to the same demon."

"I suppose she is not worth your soul, then. Peter wasn't this touchy when it came to selling his…"

The Cajun clenched his jaw. He had to do it…It was the only way.

"How do I know you're not fooling me?"

"Last time you asked for something I gave you what you wanted didn't I? Come with me. Your life for hers: I don't ask anything more than what's fair. I promise you, your beloved goddess will survive…so what do you say?"

"Remy don't…do this…" Yukio muttered with the last of her strength before watching as the Cajun walked away. Then everything went dark…

-------

Sometime later…

The group of X-men finally arrived at the center of the now ended storm. As far as the eye could see there was nothing but destruction. They walked over to the remains of a now unrecognizable structure that once was a warehouse. Precariously keeping their balance as they walked over piles of fallen debris they entered. A few feet away they made out the contours of a body on the ground.

"Yukio…" Logan was the first to recognize her. Rachel caught her from the ground and gently called her name. The ninja's eyes opened slowly:

"What happened here, Yukio?" Cyclops inquired, "Where are Gambit and Storm?"

"With…Sinister…" Was all she could tell him.

"Sinister…Just as I though things couldn't get worse."

------

Sinister had taken them to a subterranean improvised lab. Apparently he had one of those in every part of the world he could. They had traveled in a sealed car, probably so he couldn't see the way and manage to escape. Futile precaution. Gambit was so worried about Ororo that he wouldn't remember the way to that lab if it was explained to him in a map. For the past hour Essex had been working on chirurgically remove the cross from Ororo. Remy watched quietly as he cut, sew and closed the wound, applying an entire assortment of liquids and balms that, he assured him, would prevent the immense cut in her chest from leaving too much of a scar.

Finally it was done and the blood-soaked cross lay free on a metal trey.

"She'll be fine. Now, can I hold you to your word?"

"Sure. As long as you make sure she comes back to our friends. They must be around by now."

"Whatever you want. But now…" The steps echoed on the bare, sleek floor, as Sinister walked over to a cabinet, changed his gloves for new pair of clean ones, and retrieved a syringe.

"What the fuck…"

"What? Did you really believe I would just take your word for it? No, we can't have you awake and kicking now, can we? I have to make sure you won't go anywhere."

-----

Grass…She smelled grass. She felt it, under her body, soft, cool, fragrant grass. For a moment her mind wondered off the terror of the last hours, still barely clear in the blur of her memories, and she breathed in that smell. Slowly, the sounds and sensations came back to her. The desperation, the pain, the rippling of her flesh, Remy´s arms around her, gently easing the pain away as much as he could, the light, the wind…Sinister. His voice, the promise, she had been barely awake, but she heard it…

Her eyes opened to meet the calm sky above. She found herself sprawled on the grass, dressed in a kind of white cotton pajamas, much similar to what people in prison or mental institutions would wear; under it her torso was carefully wrapped in fresh, clean bandages, the cross, no where to be seen. A few feet away there was a road, as if whoever put her there did it so she could find a ride to wherever she wanted. Then it was clear, as the entire conversation between Remy and Sinister came back to her mind. Essex had removed the cross and saved her life, in exchange of…

"Goddess…Remy!"

(Continues…)

In Norse mythology, **Fenrir** or **Fenrisulfr** is a monstrous wolf, the son of Loki. Fenrir is bound by the gods, but is destined to grow too large for his bonds and devours Odin(the most powerful of the Gods) during the course of Ragnarök. By then he will have grown so large that his upper jaw touches the sky while his lower touches the earth.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12** by Ace

She lost her balance, falling back down on the soft earth beneath her—she had gotten up too fast in the rush of confusion. "I have to find him…It can't be too late—I can't be". She got up slowly then, a light rain forming from her pain, mixing with her tears, and falling helplessly to the grass. She pushed her body forward, ignoring the weakness and the pain, not knowing where she was headed, but determined to get there—where he was.

---------------------

Sunshine, warmth, dewy grass—those are the thing that surrounded him, comforting him as he seemed to awaken in a beautifully scented field, though he wasn't alone.

"Stormy?" She was dipping her delicate toes in a shallow river nearby, she turned to him.

"Remy", she smiled softly, "I'm glad you're awake." She said, walking gracefully over to him, the wind flirting with the hem of her flowing white dress that complemented her perfectly. She kneeled beside him, and cupped his cheek with a warm hand, with a warm close-lipped smile she said. "I couldn't believe you were asleep so long, you must have been tired…"

His eyes got wide with excitement, remembering the hours past, happy to see her—to know she was alright…The glint of the ring on her finger caught his eye, he looked from it to her.

"I know the jet lag got to you…But I was afraid you would sleep away our whole honeymoon." Ororo said lightly, giving him an equally chaste kiss on his stunned lips.

His heart sunk when he recalled the deal he had made with Sinister, but relished as she kissed him again and whispered a heartfelt 'I love you' on his lips. The sky went dark then, and had a metallic glint, thunder clapped and lightning shimmered dangerously in the air, the wind picked up amazing force…and after one more loving glance she was ripped from his arms into the abyss that was that cold, black sky. Her warm touches were replaced with sizzling pain as Essex's tortured were realized upon Remy's body, he could feel his body spasm involuntarily while still being unable to move, due in part to the bonds placed on his arms and legs, and partly due to his till semi-drugged state. He could feel the cold air of the room drift into his open wounds, punishing him for everything he ever felt.

He didn't notice that Sinister saw his eyes flutter, he knew after he heard the man say:

"It looks as if the little vagrant is coming to, I suppose I'll leave him this way, no need for him to miss all the fun—his torn up body can take so much more." Sinister chuffed. He proceeded to burn, poke, and slice at Remy's flesh, paving the way to a Biblically painful death.

_Storm…Ororo, can you hear me? _She heard the Professor in her head and responded promptly…they were close by.

_We would advise you to wait until we get there, we do not know Remy's whereabouts and you are not at 100, we are not far._

_But I can not leave him._

_You can not help him if you do not know where he is. _Charles leveled.

She reluctantly agreed—but she was still determined to find him, even if it meant giving her own life, which he so recently saved. Ororo then noticed the distinct trail made of damaged blades of grass in the otherwise immaculate meadow; she assumed that that must be where she had come from, and where Remy must still be.

_It's reckless, and dangerous. _She thought, and then quite faintly she heard a noise—a pleading yell…it was almost nonexistent; but she was sure it was him.

_Damn it all, I can not let him die while I sit hear and wait for the cavalry to arrive—I am no damsel in distress…I have to try. _

With that she left, back from whence she came, the place she had just escaped, and to the voice no one could hear but her.

And when she got there…all the breath left her body…


	13. Chapter 13

Previously… on X-men: (nostalgia, eh?)

"_Damn it all, I can not let him die while I sit hear and wait for the cavalry to arrive—I am no damsel in distress…I have to try."_

_With that she left, back from whence she came, the place she had just escaped, and to the voice no one could hear but her._

_And when she got there…all the breath left her body…_

----------------------

The Cross of Constantine

Chapter 13 by Bastet (who is taking mondo creative liberties here and altering the course of 616. 616 sucks anyway so I feel no remorse, meh!)

----------------------

Exhaustion hit her like a tidal wave, ebbing through to her core, "Peter!" she gasped, a mixture of horror and frustration coursing through her. He was using his mutant power to control her, shut her down, keeping her from reclaiming Remy. "_Not like this… goddess… Remy…"_

Despite her best efforts, the strain on her willpower bringing tears to her eyes, she succumbed and stumbled into Peter's arms, but not before cursing him, "Jealous… little man…"

The hatred in her eyes gave him pause. Peter studied her solemnly, catching her before she hit the ground, careful to not disturb her wound. He looked upon her with new eyes, no longer a prize as a goddess, but the strength, her power, her heart that willed her forward to the man she truly belonged.

It was such a simple dimension of her he had overlooked, her beauty as a woman… and it was that reason he would never own her. No, not owned, Ororo could never be possessed, only a man could be so lucky she offered her heart. And she had. But not to him.

He now understood the fondness Remy Lebeau ornamented her. Storms would come and go, but there would never be another Ororo Munroe. He reached out with his mind, _"Mr. Xavier, I have procured Ororo. You are free to take her home, I will not resist."_

"_Thank you, Mr. Grant. I know the difficulty this places you in, and you shall receive no hostility from us. Is Remy Lebeau with you? I am experiencing difficulty locating him…"_

"_Not that I am aware. Perhaps he went to find help?"_ He lied. It was amazing how fluid the lies could slip from him, like mercury, one after another. Lebeau was mere meters away, but he was getting what he deserved for receiving Ororo's favor. No matter, Xavier had contacted him, pleading on behalf of Peter's father for him to relent. He was losing Ororo, but at least he could accept this loss knowing what was taking place to his rival.

"_Perhaps."_ Peter noticed Xavier's voice displayed skepticism, but there was nothing he could do about that. It was the advantage dealing with the likes of Xavier; information was only given, never stolen. And it would cost them dearly.

-------------------

2 weeks had passed since Ororo had lost Remy and Yukio was in intensive care, most likely due to Storm's powers surging out of control. How could she lose her 2 best friends like this? What had she done to anger the Bright Lady?

Twice, Xavier had to calm her from frenzy, being denied leave to search for Gambit, her condition preventing her from making an independent search possible. Why was no one searching for him?

Her nights were becoming restless, constant visions of him staring at her with deep sadness, gently reaching to her. The outcome was always the same, just before Ororo reached Remy, her willpower would drain and she would see Peter, a sardonic smile on his lips, enjoying their despair.

Unable to sleep, she had taken to pacing her balcony, her hand absent-mindedly tracing the healing cross imprint over her breast. It was ghastly, the pale beaded dots of the now removed stitches, ornamenting the cross scar that extended from the center of her collarbone to just below her breast, and bridging the width of her chest, marring her once perfect brown skin.

A flash of metal in the moonlight grabbed her attention and Ororo's eyes caught sight of a white haired, hulking figure down on the lawn, and her heart soared along with the winds that lifted her from her perch and delivered her to the earth. The fact that he had wanted to meet her outside the mansion meant he had news. Good or bad, she had to know something or it would kill her. "Thank you for coming, Nathan."

"Always making a grand entrance, Ororo." He whispered with smug amusement on his face as her hair whipped wildly on touch down. "We need to exit the grounds so I can teleport us away."

"They will know I have left." She stated flatly.

"I'm a professional, remember? I have connections. Your psionic imprint will never leave the grounds."

No sooner had they stepped past the gates of the estate, she blinked against the blinding flash of a light and when she opened her eyes, she was in Italy again, surrounded by the ruins of the warehouse she had destroyed. It was now marked off with yellow police tape but it was all the same, nothing disturbed.

Nathan smelled ozone on the air and tensed.

"It is all right, my friend. I am only changing into more suitable attire." An electrical current coursed through Ororo, charging the ions in her night clothes and rearranging them to form her battle uniform. "Can you tell me what you have found?"

Nathan pushed some rubble aside, revealing a trap door. He opened it effortlessly, the hinges creaking in protest. "Underneath here, is an abandoned laboratory, Sinister's fingerprints all over the place, figuratively speaking. There are devices down there I can't even begin to fathom what he could use for, but one in particular is spattered in blood. I ran samples against Lebeau's and they came up a match."

"Goddess…" the cross was beginning to ache again as she followed him down rusted metal stairs to a cold, cellar like laboratory. She used lightning to light the room, but the darkness seemed to swallow them. It was her claustrophobia.

"I can help you with that, Storm…"

"No… I will be fine." She paused to readjust her mental faculties.

"It would only be for when we're down here-"

"I'm FINE." She blurted, before softening, "I mean, thank you. But it is not necessary. What is down here?"

"Unfortunately, Sinister isn't sloppy, at least when it comes to leaving clues. Anything you need to know, he'll let you know." Nathan paused, just outside another metal door. "Ororo, why did you hire me to track Remy? You know very well Rachel used to track mutants. Bishop's the detective. I know why you wouldn't use Emma, but why me?"

Storm had to pause a second, weighing her words and understanding her motives, the words were there, she just had to push past the pain in her chest and work them. "You are the best for the job at hand. You work outside the mansion, away from prying eyes… and minds. I trust you to get the job done without emotion weighing in. Cable, you read between the lines, have no reservations of helping me achieve my means, and are not influenced by X-politics, obviously since you sneaked me out of the mansion."

The pain was getting stronger and she inhaled sharply, "If there is one thing I am disgusted with right now, it is how the mansion has reacted to Remy's disappearance. I understand if he is not showing up on Cerebra, but there are so many more resources at our disposal… look at everything you have found in a week's time."

Nathan smiled slightly. "I realize it may come across that way, but they don't feel indifference."

"Is this coming from a telepath?"

"No, I don't have that power anymore. It is experience reading people, not their minds." He turned from her, pushed the door open and flipped on a light switch. Florescent bulbs lit the air, one flickering and buzzing incessantly.

Cable stepped over a tipped over chair and allowed Ororo entrance to the room. "There was a book left behind, a research journal with a lengthy history of The Constantine. An inscription left on the inside cover by Peter Grant." He paused as he pulled the worn leather tome off the desk next to the door.

"Please continue." Ororo examined the room, and immediately saw the mess of dried blood surrounding the unidentified machine. She was drawn to it and found herself longing to touch the only part of Remy that was near her.

"You said Remy mentioned the cross originally helped Arabs dominate Northern Africa. Well, guess who originally designed it?"

"Apocalypse?" she was distracted, taking entirely too much interest in the torture device.

"Close. It says Baal of the Crimson Sands created it, a cross to be the birthright of his son, Aten…

"AKA, Mr. Sunshine himself." A gravelly voice interjected.

Nathan peered down at the image on his wrist receiver and rolled his eyes at the caller. As useful as his red-masked associate was, Deadpool could really grate nerves. "I take it you've found something, Wilson?"

"Easy, big boy. It's not often a Mercenary is hired to NOT kill. I think it's against our code of ethics or something…"

"Wade…"

"I've found your guy. He looks like such a wiener. I should put him out of his misery…" Deadpool moved his wrist from his face and Cable caught full view of Peter Grant. Nathan glanced up at Ororo and became distracted at what she was doing.

Ororo was sitting in the chair of the unidentified machine, her hands reaching up to touch the blood stained manacles.

She gazed at the cold steel, trying to fathom what Remy had gone through, and why she was in such pain near this place. Her fingers extended to touch where his wrists had been, and as soon as her hand touched the blood, it hit her.

"Good. Send me the coordinates and Ororo and I will—" A scream erupted from Ororo, from the burning in her chest as images of Remy's ordeal and waves of his pain coursed through her… the pain he had gone through… for her._"_

"Bright Lady! Storm!" Nathan leapt forward and pulled her from the device, her body shuddering as if in seizure. Her wound was reopening, the bloody imprint of the Constantine soaking through her uniform.

"What! Is she going tribal nekkid again? Oooh! Lemme see!"

"Wade… this is not the time! She's convulsing… her wound's opened back up."

A drop of blood dripped onto the communicator, smudging the screen. "Ew!"

In her mind, Ororo saw the image of Remy… white hair on skin black as shadows… glowing red eyes… eyes once so troubled but kind, now burning with rage. And Sinister's husky voice, "_Now we have unmasked the true you… you will serve your destiny… Death"_

Nathan struggled to speak above the scream of wind, "I don't know what's going on…" he yelled, "just… send me the coordinates and I'll patch back in… and stay alert."

Almost as suddenly as it began, it stopped, an eerie calm settling over the room as the winds were cut off.

Ororo opened sparkling blue eyes, frantically searching the room until Cable came into focus. "He's alive," she whimpered.

(to be continued…)


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Written by: Wahinetoa

"He's alive!" Nathan furrowed his brow in confusion and mortification. Knowing the kind of half abomination life, Apocalypse and Sinister constituted of their 'slaves', he feared what Remys existence entailed.

Before he could ask how she knew this, as well as the horrific reopening of her life-threatening wound - the underground laboratory filled with the savagery of the world coming apart at the seams.

CRRAAAAACCK!

The ceiling above them breaks apart, huge chunks of mortar, concrete and earth imploding in on them. The walls crumble and sheer off, crashing to the  
ground like thunder, on all sides. Nathan instinctively grabs Ororo to him, clutching her frail body tighter as he concentrated hard on their destination, as the floor below them explodes up and outwards, taking all hope of escape with them.

Cairo, Egypt.

Outside; the bustling metropolis that is Cairo city, buzzes with the activity of a thriving and technological civilization - upon the brink of greatness.

Yet still, its barbaric keystone remained. A temple so ancient, that the stars in the heavens have changed seven times, since the first stone was laid into place. Its immortality both a historical marvel, and a legend to curse. As was its first benevolent Pharaoh.

The great Egyptian Warlord; En Sabah Nur.

"Remember your place here, worm!" bellowed Apocalypse, above the noise of restoration work being done all about him, staring down at the half-breed whelps that now stood in his presence. "I have not allowed you my mercies - such as the privilege of continuing to live - to expect anything less than absolute and unending gratitude to me."

He angrily waves off any further protest with a sweep of one hand. "And although you have brought me a prize; such as Death is - trivial matters dealing with his acquisition are of no consequence." he glares at Grant in particular. "But as for you, boy..."

The impressive sentinel comes to rest in front of the human known as Grant, and studies him with a critical eye. Although this insect imagines himself greater than a servant - in the end, Apocalypse will see to it, that is all he will become.

"You have been dabbling," one grey finger curls under his chin, lifts, revealing more fully the two gold eyes marring the humanity on the one now known as Saint. ".. in things that do not concern you." Apocalypse releases his chin, to rest upon the Constantine around the Saints neck. "That do not belong to you either."

The accusation placed, drew out the tension between each of the formidable males. Grant met the cold emotionless Lords eyes with a birthright confidence of one assassin to another. That was his first mistake.

"Evolution rewards the strongest," Saints voice edges to steel. "That is why I have come to serve in your army, against the X-men and all those that stand in your way. I shall be a magnificent General --" and although it kills him to utter the words to this barbarian, to bow, to surrender title, Saint does so, for his  
ultimate goal is closer than he imagined, and nothing must stand in its way. "-- to my King."

The smirk was appreciative enough, on one so ancient a God as Apocalypse. Displeasure and rancor soured the beasts blood further. That trinket about his neck, was Apocalypse's inheritance. Nothing this malevolent fool could say or do, could erase the murderous revenge he would suffer at his hands. But the whelp had drawn upon the talisman in a way that no mortal had yet discovered, let alone, survived - and this rare occurrence needed further investigation.

However, for such insolence, if not punished by death - then he would see to it, much pain would suffice.

A ball of fierce amber light curled from Apocalypse's clenched hands, driven by an anger inescapable. When next he spoke his voice was glacial. Promising.

"We shall see, Saint, just how worthy you are--"

_Below the chaos rages above_

Far from the noise and debris of the upper floors, inside the antechamber, Ozymandias The Eternal, walks the ancient smooth stone floors with the confidence of an immortal man intended for something greater than this moment.

For all the many treasures of this city, they merely pale in comparison to the artwork and detail of the seers ancient murals for Apocalypse. Written by his hand the impressions of a life before, and beyond, are intricately engraved onto the ancient obelisks. Huge sandstone templates carved the purest form of servitude and destiny.

His eyes rest upon one in particular. She rises like a phoenix in the huge circular chamber, under lit by many fired sconces around the column. She is the epitome of African beauty; the Cleopatra of every century. A golden tablet of hieroglyphs - his lifework - stretch out like ribbons to the walls, adding vision upon vision of what is in store for the one he was honored to call Daughter.

In the furthermost corner, hidden by shadow, a space which is about to come into being - draws his heavy shoulders down into regret.

The one they now call Death, stands vigil over this impressive hall. Eyes focused on the goddess, unseeing and uncaring, in the service of Apocalypse for all time.

Alas, the child Ororo could not be saved from Apocalypse, nor Sinister or even Saint, as they fought above this quiet tomb. His master; would win. Always had. Always would.

His frail grey eyes go back to Death, and waver in their hold. A vision of her fate, swallowed by darkness and the talons of a cross that manipulated her very DNA into something not God, or Goddess, could even imagine.

With dying eyes, caught in the memory of something he sees...

Lightning strikes in the darkening distance. The horizon disappears into a swirling miasma of low, dark clouds.

The final stand that ever matters between Man and his Gods.

Apocalypse, the horsemen, standing in the wings of his 'fathers' temple, awaiting the dark angel the new Deaths life is given to destroy. Turning away from the incomplete mural taking place before him, he turns to the masked assassin awaiting the final brush stroke. With bright eyes, he smiles in their direction and is given new hope.

Perhaps not all destiny is written in stone; extracting life and the hearts that live it, for prodigal one.

Three claws extend - rip his dreaming to shreds.

The Immortal seer returns to the present, staggering by the vision and the strangeness of the unknown. As if life itself, were rewriting their stories as they went.

Ororo the waif, from years before appear in his minds eye. He had saved her from the stone Horsemen, and given her the opal, in order to escape. Warning her of its power, and the price one must pay to control it.

_"What can I do, to repay your kindness?"  
His reply, is one that will come to pass this very day.  
"I am certain that your debt to En Sabah Nur will be repaid in FULL... someday."_

Ozymandia's anger evaporated with a long, lingering exhale and he returns to the present, reluctantly.

His gaze floats between the stone goddess and the cold fleshed minion standing sentry, then back again to the woman. Incapable of turning away from the future Queen of his master. Upon her head, the crown of her ancestors, and it's ruby jewel - Ozymandias opal.

The complete opposite of the Constatine Cross. The Holy Grail which steadfastly stood between the menacing fates that rushed to claim the doomed lovers, and the life they were meant to lead.

Grey eyes turn back to the living Death. Inconsolable and drawn by grief and regret, he sends a prayer in the hope that someone would hear it. Somehow, when no one here contained the freedom of voice to do so.

"If you have any soul left, son," he murmurs hopefully, earnestly, "You best be using it now."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Written by: Lady Macbeth

"What were you thinking going back there?" Scott asked her calmly, almost fatherly. "If Nathan wasn't there to protect you from the wreckage, God knows if you would be alive now!" Her co-leader, stopped talking, fearing he was being too harsh, and sat besides her, his hand closing over hers with sincere affection.

"Scott I had to go." She answered with simplicity.

"Ororo…" He trailed off. Scott couldn't tell her she was wrong worrying about Remy: they were the best of friends, he knew that, if Ororo thought he was alive, there was no way he, or anyone, could keep her from doing something. Besides how could she know the lab was bombed? A cleverly adjusted bomb, ready to go off exactly when somebody stepped on particular part of the floor like an explosive mine. Apparently Sinister was working diligently to cover his tracks "Ok, then… Just rest now."

Scott closed the door to the attic stairs and took in a deep breath.

"What's on your mind, Scott?" A soft feminine voice asked him.

"Like you, of all people, would have to ask."

The blond headmistress of the Xavier school approached him with her trademark Mona Lisa smile gracing her lips: "Do you think he's alive?"

"I don't know…we didn't find a body, so I would have to say there are odds he is…but it seems too unlikely…"

"Why? For the x-men the odds are never that simple. Besides, if Gambit were dead, why would Sinister go through all the trouble of bombing that lab? "

"If only we could do something…"

Steady steps approached the couple:

"How is she?" Cable asked them

"Fine. Just a minor concussion and some scratches…"Scott told him

"I'll check on her."

"Ok."

"Finally you got here." Ororo told him as the fair-headed man entered.

"How do you feel?"

"Fine. I haven't had the time to thank you for saving me. And apologizing for dragging you into this."

He sat besides her on the bed and smiled, as if silently telling her she had no need for an apology. "So he is alive…"

"Yes."

"Forgive my skepticism…but how can you possibly know that?"

"The cross…"

"The cross?"

"Yes…it…" Ororo stopped for a moment, as if embarrassed. He brushed a strand of silvery-white hair from her cheek.

"What's about it?"

"You know what is the power of that cross, don't you?"

"Oh, that whole thing about giving the owner their heart's desire? Yes."

"When Saint did that to me…I guess, somehow my powers merged with those of the cross…so now, not only my powers are changing but…sometimes I can…feel him, or see him…"

"So I take that your hearts desire…"

"Yes…I should have admitted it to myself sooner. Maybe I could have avoided this whole…"

"Enough with that, Ororo. If you tell me he is alive, I believe you. Now we have to figure out what to do."

"Nathan, you don't need too…"

"That's fine. If the man you love is still alive you should do something before is too late. The loss of a beloved one is something you don't want to deal with…"

"Thank you, Nathan."

"Did you tell anyone?"

"No. And I won't. Except… I know the x-men will be of no use, but we can't go to Cairo and deal with this situation on our own. We need some sort of backup…and I know someone who cares enough about Remy to join us…"

The Mississippian sat by her vanity, a picture of the red-eyed Cajun who once stole her heart between her fingers. Her suitcase was still packed on her bed, from when she had come back in a hurry to the mansion, upon the news of Remy´s disappearance. She still couldn't believe this was happening again. Gone, without a trace.

While on break in Italy with one of her best friends.

With a pained grimace, she closed her eyes, as the photo ignited, bursting into flames then turning into ashes.

"Damn you, Remy"

Soft knocks caught her attention.

"Anna? It's me, Ororo, can I come in?"

"Yeah." The Southern belle yelled, dumping the still warm ashes into the trash bin.

Anna looked though the mirror as the former goddess made her way in, in that usual cool, collected, queen-like manner of moving she had. In spite of herself, the green-eyed woman felt irritated.

"What can I do for you?"

"I was hoping we could talk…About Remy."

Pushing her feelings of annoyance away, Rogue pointed a seat for the taller woman and asked, with sincerity:

"Do you have any news?"

"You don't believe he is dead either."

"Is not a question of belief…more like hope…"

"Well, I believe he is alive. And I can assure you it's more than hope."

"You and Cable found some clue? "

"You could say so…and I wanted to ask you…would you come with us, to Cairo? That's where we believe he is." All of the sudden Ororo caught herself talking faster and nervously. The idea of asking Rogue to come with her to rescue Remy was very uncomfortable for a number of reasons. The more professional she made it, the better. "We have reason to believe he might be in great danger, and since the other x-men don't seem to be taking this seriously…"

"Ororo…why are you doing this?" Anna interrupted her with an annoyed tone of voice.

The African blinked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Do you think I look like an idiot? I know full well why you two went to Italy. And it wasn't just about some heist was it?"

Ororo bit her lower lip, as he blue eyes wandered away from the green orbs of the younger woman. Busted.

"No it wasn't."

Anna slumped on her chair and sighed:

"Listen, that's fine. I know I had no claim on him. I was the one who dumped him remember? He was free to take you or any other woman to Italy, Pakistan, Neverland, to I- don't-give-a-fuck-shire to do whatever the hell he pleases… But why did you come to me for this?"

"I know you care about him. As I do. I know we both love this man, regardless of anything…and he is in danger. In great danger. He might…" Ororo felt her resolve weaken as her eyes filled with tears at the mere thought of what might be happening. She didn't want to cry in front of Anna, but even as her brow tensed, her trembling voice betrayed her, keeping the last sentence from being completed.

The southerner winced, recognizing in those eyes a kind of desperation she knew very well. Funny. Ororo never struck her as the kind of woman who would fall passionately in love, or pine over a man. Maybe she gave Ororo´s humanity too little credit. Anna felt she could just kick herself for feeling sympathetic to her own rival. Straightening up she made her voice tone stern:

"Ororo, I'll be straight with you: I love him. I still do. I have no claim on this man, but hell…you can't just take someone out of your heart like this…so I just want one thing to be clear."

"And what is it?"

"I will go with you to Cairo…But I'm doing this because…as you said I still care about him…But don't you expect me to be all good friends with you. I just can't do it. Not now at least."

"Seems fair enough.." Ororo told her, keeping quiet for a while, feeling more relieved.

"So were you two…" Rogue asked after a pause, not sure if she wanted an answer.

"Not yet." Ororo bit her lip again, wishing the last word hadn't come out of her mouth. "I mean…it was still…we…"

"You know what? You don't have to tell me…It's all right. Just tell me what's your plan…"

"I can see you're in need of assistance. Mind if I joined your little searching party?"

The blond man came from behind Ororo, just as she left Anna's room. More annoyed than startled, she turned around, keeping her voice low not to call any unwanted attention.

"Were you listening?"

"I made you a question first." Pulse told her

-Why, in the name of the goddess, you of all people would be interested in finding Remy?

"I'm not really…but I also don't really like the fact that Rogue is going after him."

"What do you want to do? Keep an eye on her? Don't tell me you're feeling insecure." She asked, displeased by the man's attitude.

"And aren't you feeling a least bit insecure?"

"What is this supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on…People are talking. Ever since they broke up, you and Gambit have been very… intimate…then that trip to Italy…Everybody can read you, even Rogue…You made a great mistake by inviting her to join you. She's probably already thinking on how she's gonna win him back."

"Well, Augustus… if anyone has any reason to feel insecure here is you…I…" She stopped before her outburst went too far.

"So you are sure of his affections…that's good…at least is good for me, and as we both have shared interests in this matter…"

"Listen up, Pulse!" She snapped. "If you want to join us to help, then by all means do, you will be welcomed. But whatever are your feelings on "this matter" keep them to yourself. I have no time to play games, and Rogue is in no condition to withstand your advances now. "

She walked away, as he still talked:

"Ok, Ororo, you're right. But if I were you…" Pulse shook his head at the goddess´ naïveté.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the nightly darkness of Cairo, the player was ready and impatient to begin the game, as his pawns unwillingly, unconsciously moved on their own volition to meet their destiny.

Soon enough the queen would be his…and with her, a brave new world would come.

(Continues…)


End file.
